Once Upon a Sleepless Night
by Daaro Moltor
Summary: Voldemort has figured out a new way to cheat death; somehow he has managed to manifest himself inside of Harry Potter's head. Harry is on the verge of jumping from the Astronomy tower when Hermione figures out that all they might need is a pureblood...
1. December 15th 1998, Tuesday

**Once upon a sleepless night**

_The __crystallized grass made an unnaturally loud sound as it shattered beneath his feet. For every step he took, it seemed like he slowly killed the ground he trod upon. _

_He tried to stop, tried just to stand still, to stop the killing, but he was no longer in control of his own body. He had no choice but to continue his aimless wandering; listening to the sound of death in every step he took._

How does it feel, Harry Potter? How does it feel to have no control, how does it feel to be completely helpless?

_The eerie sound of Lord Voldemort's voice echoed through his mind as his speed increased. He shuddered, but otherwise his body showed no reaction to the questions ringing through his mind. _

_A thick unnatural mist made the air hard to breathe, as if it froze on its way down his throat. It covered the land and made it seem like he was at the end of the world, like he was so far away that nothing existed anymore. _

_His legs moved faster, and he found himself running through the flat landscape. The shattering sound became so loud that it felt as though it cut right through his mind and body. The earth itself had gotten a voice. A voice that screamed; screamed with __heart-breaking__ agony. _

How does it feel, Harry Potter, to know that every time you close your eyes, I am going to take over your body? How does it feel to know that I am going to haunt your dreams until I break you, Harry Potter? To know that you will not rest peacefully until I have completely broke you down, until your sanity is nothing but a fading memory?

_The cold air made his throat hurt, made it feel like he was breaking from the inside, just like Voldemort had promised. His legs were already numb from the running, but he wasn't able to stop. He had no other choice but to keep going. _

_Tears were running down his cheeks, but __they __froze before they reached his chin. _

_Suddenly the ground fell away from underneath him, and he fell into complete darkness as Voldemort's voice rang in his ears… _

"_How does it feel, Harry Potter…" _

_*ϟ*ϟ*_

Ron's blue eyes were the first sight that met him as he woke, but his panicked mind was barely able to register that.

"Harry, mate, you need to stop screaming!" Ron said loudly and shook him.

Not even aware that he'd used it, he quickly shut his hoarse voice off. He panted heavily as he desperately tried to rouse himself to wake up, to stay in control. Lord Voldemort's heavy presence slowly faded away.

It had been this way ever since he'd killed the Dark Lord.

He'd been well aware that he was one of the man's seven Horcruxes, and had entered the battle with the intention to kill himself as soon as it was completed. It had been a depressing awareness, to know whatever the outcome he was still going to die. Yet somehow he had managed. Afterward, though, when the monster was dead and the battle over, his friends had already figured out his plan and stopped him from going through with it. They had convinced him that they needed him, that they could find a way to literally get Voldemort out of his head without him dying.

They had tried to fulfil their promise, but Harry's life had slowly turned into a living hell. Every night as he fell asleep, Voldemort took over his mind, controlling it and turning it against him. The horrible nightmares were constant, worse than anything he could possibly imagined had left him more exhausted that he'd thought possible. He had only slept for a few hours during the almost two months that had passed since Voldemort's death. Maybe it was more correct to call it _near death. _

His life was now close to unbearable, and he had – more than once – thought about ending it. Not just for his own sake, but for the whole world.

The constant dreams were an excellent reminder of what his selfishness could cause. If Voldemort returned just because he was too scared to take his own life, he would never forgive himself. _If _he were to survive.

"Harry, _wake up!" _

He hadn't realized he'd stared blankly off into space until Ron waved his hand in front of his eyes.

"Sorry mate, I'm awake," he mumbled and rubbed his bloodshot eyes with the heel of his hands.

As he looked up he saw Ron staring worriedly down at him.

"Hermione seriously needs to find out something about all this crap soon," Ron said and sat down beside him.

Harry sighed.

"If you'd just let me _end _it all, I could-"

"No. No way in hell," Ron said sharply, interrupting him.

"I _am _in hell!" Harry burst. Ron looked hurt. Harry sighed again and turned away.

He knew he hurt Ron and Hermione when he said that he didn't want to live, he knew it made them feel like they weren't good enough. Not good enough to live for. What they didn't understand was that they were good enough to die for; and he would, if they'd just let him.

Ron suddenly surprised him by pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, the kind that Hagrid usually gave whenever he felt overly emotional.

But Ron was very rarely physical, especially towards other guys.

"Look, Harry, I know that you think the world would be a safer place without you and the part of that weirdo's soul in your mind, and maybe it would. But the truth is that _my_ life would be worse. It would be a lot worse, like unbearable-worse. And so would Hermione's. So don't even think about jumping of one of the towers or whatever."

He saw the eyes of the others over Ron's shoulder. They, too, were awake after his screaming. Dean, Seamus and Neville all gave a slight nod, as if to confirm Ron's words. He closed his eyes and leaned in a bit into Ron's hug.

"Promise that you won't try to leave?" Ron said. It was the same desperation in his voice that had been present in his pleading during their second year, when he had asked if his sister was still alive.

Harry swallowed down a big lump in his throat, "I promise."

He couldn't risk Voldemort taking him over through his dreams, but if he was lucky, maybe he'd die from the constant attempts before that happened. That way, he wouldn't break his promise.

* * *

_Hello everyone!_

_I know this is a real shortie, but I'm afraid that this is the standard length of my chapters. To make up for that, I'll henceforth post one chapter a day, with little or no exceptions._  
_Hope you all will enjoy!_

_Something that is way more likely that you'll do now than before. 'Before' being before my beta, **Winterstorrm**, took a glance at this. And then took more than a glance. I swear, she has probably done more on this than I have!_  
_Thank you so much for doing this for me! If words can express my gratitude, it's probably you who possess them, not me._

_Happy Valentine's Day, to everyone!_


	2. December 15th

**Chapter 2**

Harry walked clumsily down the stairs to the common room, half asleep like always these days. Sheer exhaustion had driven him to sleep almost twenty hours during the past week. Fifty six was about what a person needed.

"Harry!"

With his eyes closed he of course couldn't see Hermione's face when she said his name, but he could clearly hear the wide smile on her lips; and the enthusiasm. That was something he hadn't heard in a few weeks. It actually made him open his eyes.

Voldemort's now constant presence faded a little as Hermione's almost bouncing form came in to view.

"I've found something!"

Z*z*Z

Less than a minute later all three were gathered in one of the huge Gryffindor-red couches, hovering over one of the books Hermione had gotten permission to take from the library's forbidden area despite Madame Pince's protests.

"Look at this part over here," Hermione said and pointed. "Listen… _And with the presence of clean magic the unwanted spirit can be driven __away."_she quoted, and then quickly flipped some pages back.

"And from what I understood from this section here, it isn't the horcrux in you that is haunting you, it is some sort of spell put _on _the horcrux that makes all the trouble and…"

"Whoa… slow down a bit," Ron said, "What does _clean magic _mean? Do we need to hunt down some weird object of magic or what?"

Hermione looked troubled.

"We do, don't we? And it's rare and it's going to be dangerous and I can't possibly do it myself because I'm going to fall asleep, and I can't let you do it for me." Harry sighed and buried his face in his hands.

How could Hermione have possibly looked enthusiastic about _this_?

"No, it's not an object, but it _is_ quite rare…" Harry looked up at her, confused. "But don't worry; it won't be a problem to get a hold of some…"

"Hermione, you really need to tell us what you're going on about, because from what I can see from Harry's face, he's 'bout as lost as I am." Ron said with his familiar face of complete confusion.

For a moment it felt like the old times, when their only problem was to kill a living and embodied Voldemort. The moment passed quickly.

"Well…" Hermione started slowly, "Actually it refers to _pure _magic… as in _pure _blood."

The words immediately made Harry think about Malfoy.

"And what does that mean for us?" Ron asked and glared at Hermione like she was the prime suspect in a murder case.

"It means that if a pureblood was to sleep next to Harry, his dreams would disappear," a hint of the previous enthusiasm was to be heard as she explained.

Harry felt the thought of getting a full night's sleep tickle his mind. A sigh of pleasure almost escaped his lips just by imagining it.

"So, what? We need a Slytherin that we know won't kill Harry to sleep next to him?" Ron said with disapproval written all over his face.

Hermione sighed and Harry almost smiled when he heard her take up her usual teacher-tone that she always had whenever she thought Ron was being a simpleton.

"You're so daft sometimes, Ron. We don't need a Slytherin, because _you _are a pureblood,"

Ron looked shocked for a moment, as if Hermione just had thrown a horrible insult at him. Then a huge smile slowly started to spread over his lips.

"Yeah, you're right, I am,"

Harry enjoyed seeing the hope in his friend's eyes, but he had to kill it.

"Hate to break it for you guys, but Ron is and has been sleeping in the bed next to mine every night, and it isn't helping one bit," Harry said, shooting an apologetic look towards Hermione.

"Oh," Ron's smile faded instantly.

Hermione's, on the contrary, widened.

"That's the thing Harry, he's been sleeping in the _bed_ next to yours; he needs to sleep next to _you. _I'm talking about skin on skin contact." Hermione positively bubbled with enthusiasm by now, like she always did when she'd figured out something brilliant.

Ron wrinkled his nose.

"No offense, Harry, but what do I have to do, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"None taken," Harry quickly reassured his friend, his mind still on the lovely possibility of sleep, closer than he had dared to hope for.

"Don't be silly Ron, you can just poke his shoulder if you want, even though it would be nice if you would be willing to put an _arm_ around him so not to lose could contact during the night, to _save his life." _

Ron's ears went red. He mumbled a muffled _that's-not-what-I-meant_ under his breath.

"So what then? I just need to sleep beside Harry every night for… the rest… of his… life…" Ron grew more and more hesitant as he spoke. After all, the rest of his life was quite a long time. Possibly.

Hermione opened her mouth to – once again – tell Ron to stop being silly, but Harry beat her to it.

"Of course not, Ron, just till we find a permanent solution. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

She nodded with a wide smile.

With a new option to his future being added to his previous two – a lifetime without sleep or a life for another two days – even Harry could not hold back a small bit of enthusiasm.

Then his head fell forward and he fell asleep.

As soon as his eyelids fell shut Voldemort's presence exploded in his mind. It shook him and drowned his mind like an icy ocean. An insane, evil laugh filled his mind as he fought the feeling of death and drowning.

As soon as the battle was won Harry opened his eyes and abruptly drew his wand.

Judging from Ron and Hermione's startled expressions; he had not been gone long. Neither of them looked like they even had noticed that he'd fallen asleep.

He sat down slowly and stuffed his wand back in his pocket. The enthusiasm had been effectively killed.

"It's getting worse,"

Z*z*Z

Ron drew his shirt over his head with head and looked back at Harry over his shoulder.

"Hey, mate, should I skip the shirt so we're sure that it's enough contact?"

He shot a calculating glance at Ron and his bare torso.

"Do so. I'll leave mine off too," Harry said with a grimace.

Ron smiled reassuringly at him and sat down beside him at the bed.

"Hey, I know you're worried, but there's really no need, mate,"

Harry ignored the statement.

"You have been calling me 'mate' a lot lately," he commented.

Ron looked nonplussed.

"Haven't I always called you that?" he asked.

Yeah, but, well, you have done it more than usual lately," Harry said with a shrug.

Ron looked at him with serious eyes. He had been serious much too often lately.

"You _are_ my best mate, and I guess with all this talk about you taking your life I want to make sure that you know that."

Harry met Ron's blue orbs with wide eyes.

"I know that Ron," he said hoarsely, ridiculously touched by the words.

"Good, now go to sleep." the redhead said and shoved him down on the bed, and took his place beside him.

"Okay, sleep well then…" Ron said and flung his arm around Harry's naked waist.

Harry's sleepiness had driven them to go to bed early, so they were alone in the big room. Something he thought that Ron was thankful for.

"Hey mate," he mimicked Ron's usage of the word, "thank you for doing this,"

Ron chuckled a little beside him, obviously understanding his intentions.

"No problem… _mate." _

A smile shone through his sleepiness, and with that on his lips he let himself drift away with hopes about a dreamless night in his mind.

Z*z*Z

_He flew. High above a glittering and shining London that lit up the black night. _

_He knew that sounds should still be coming from the big city, but this high up, none of it could reach him. _

_He flew, but he was not the one in control. Whoever was obviously didn't feel as comfortable high up in the air as he did. _

_Suddenly he took his hand from the broom and drew his wand. He raised it towards the sky and shouted words that made his throat hurt but didn't reach his ears. The movement of the lips, however, was horribly recognizable. _

"_Morsmordre."_

_As if the word were a command, the one who controlled him turned his head towards the sky. Not that there was any doubt about who it was anymore. _

_On the clear night sky above London, a fleeting green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth was marrying the still perfection. _

_The Dark Mark. And it was huge. _

_His head snapped down as the horror rose inside of him. The speed of the broom increased, flying faster than possible. His controlled body started circling London in a speed that made the whole town blurry beside him. _

_He was _not_ in control. _

_He stopped, suddenly in the centre of the town. He raised his wand towards the sky, towards the mark, and tipped his head back. Below him men and women were shrieking in horror. _

_Words started coming out of his mouth, words that held no meaning to him but whose powers were unmistakable. _

_The yellow ray of magic that erupted from his wand hit the Dark Mark, making it glow eerily._

_Suddenly the city started exploding below him, small powerful explosions that destroyed the town house by house. The people below him screamed and ran, trying to escape death. But they couldn't run. The explosions were everywhere, bringing people down as well as buildings. Limbs and bodies of innocent people flew through the air, dead or screaming until death caught them. _

_Soon, all of London was nothing but death, dust and ashes below him. Everything was completely still. _

_A mad laugh rose from his throat, breaking the complete silence._

"_Look what you have done, Harry Potter. Behold what I can make you do…" _

_*ϟ*ϟ*_

Harry sat up with a scream and tears running down his cheeks. It had all been way too real. With a sob he managed to stop his screaming and quickly wiped the tears caused by the dream off his face.

He fell back down onto the bed and tuned his face towards Ron. Who of course was awake. No one could sleep through Harry's screaming.

His arm was still around his waist.

"It didn't work," he said slowly.

"No." Ron agreed, "I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault," Harry said quietly.

But he was sorry too.

Voldemort's horrible voice echoed through his mind.

_You are mine, Harry Potter. This battle is already lost._

* * *

So... second chapter... Tension building... XD

No, but seriously guys, I had originally decided that I wouldn't ask for reviews. But _two! _ That's a bit underwhelming... (Two wonderful reviews, though, tank you very much!)  
Well, an author has to earn them, right? Hope you will enjoy later parts more than the first, and that you don't give up on me just yet... ;)


	3. December 16th, Wednesday

**Chapter 3**

"It didn't work Ron, I need to switch rooms," Harry insisted.

"No, you can't! Harry, please stay a little longer," Ron pleaded.

"I can't, my dreams are keeping everyone awake," he protested and almost tripped on one of the stairs. Yet another sleepless night. He should be happy to still be walking.

"But if you change rooms, I won't be there to wake you up!"

"And I won't be there to wake _everyone else _up, Ron!" he said desperately.

Truth be told, he'd only stayed in the dorm this long because of the fact that Ron _was_ there to wake him up. But after the previous nights failure he'd realized that this wasn't going to stop. He would either be taken over by Voldemort or die. But no one knew how long it was until either happened, and he'd already seen the dark circles under the eyes of the others. He couldn't let them suffer for his problems, he needed to move out.

Ron didn't seem to have an answer.

"I'm moving to a separate room tonight and that is that." He said as they reached the common room.

As soon as he sat down on the couch his eyes slipped shut.

"_Death…!" _Voldemort's voice screamed in his mind.

He opened his eyes instantly. It felt like someone had poured sand in them.

Hermione suddenly came bouncing down the stairs. He felt horrible when he saw the enthusiasm die in her eyes; but the disappointment was quickly replaced by determination.

"It didn't work," she stated as she sat down in an armchair beside them.

"It didn't," Ron confirmed. "In fact, I think it's worse,"

Harry was too tired to make a comment.

"Well, we have tried to move the purity closer, and it didn't work. I think we should try to make the purity purer," Hermione said as a matter of fact.

Ron looked almost insulted, even though he hadn't even remembered that he was a pureblood yesterday.

"What? But I'm a pureblood, how much purer do we need?"

"Purer than you, obviously. And I do believe that you have a muggle-relative, no?" Hermione said and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, but we never talk about him!" Ron protested.

"That you never talk about him doesn't make him nonexistent, Ron, that makes him ignored." Hermione said shortly.

If everything had been as it used to, Harry would have laughed at the look on Ron's face.

"I am _not _giving up on this idea yet, and I believe that what you said yesterday, Ron, will be our next step," Hermione said and flipped the book she had been carrying open on the table.

"Er… what did I say yesterday," Ron asked confused.

"You suggested the Slytherins, and I believe tha-…"

"I did _not_! I asked if you were going to let one of them kill him!" Ron protested loudly.

"Ronald Weasley, you need to put your silly narrow-mindedness aside. Voldemort is dead and not every Slytherin wants to kill Harry anymore. I don't believe that anyone of them is dumb enough to do it here where they are the main suspect," Hermione said and glared at Ron.

Harry didn't have the energy to argue with her, but wondered briefly if she had forgotten the reason why they were even having this discussion; one would think that Voldemort ought to be a quite likely suspect, all things considered.

"And besides, I am going to make the person in question swear the Unbreakable Vow. I am not prepared to risk Harry's life,"

A grin flared up in Ron's face and he bent forward to kiss her.

"You are brilliant, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione blushed but accepted the kiss.

"I'm just using my brain, Ron," she mumbled and shoved her hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I'm going to do a little research to find out which Slytherin it is who has the purest blood, and then try to convince him or her to sleep next to you, Harry, is that okay?"

Harry nodded briefly. His head felt heavy and huge as he bowed it.

Hermione's gaze turned worried.

"Do you want me to fetch some Dreamless-sleep at the hospital wing for you before I go to the library, Harry?" she asked with a frown on her face.

He tried to smile, but failed. He was so tired.

"No, you know that it won't have any effect, but thank you anyway…" he said.

Without the intensity of his and Ron's argument earlier, his voice was so slow and hoarse that it almost scared him.

Hermione noticed too, but pressed out a fake smile.

Z*z*Z

As the night came closer, Hermione still hadn't returned from the library. Ron had fallen asleep on the couch beside him and Harry desperately longed to do the same, but he couldn't. If he fell asleep he'd soon be dreaming – and thereby be screaming – again, and he'd wake Ron up. He couldn't do that. Even though Ron hadn't slept nearly as little as he, it still wasn't close to enough – he needed the sleep.

Secondly, Voldemort was present in his mind even though he was awake. He didn't even dare to imagine what could happen if he fell asleep.

He rose slowly from the couch, nearly sleepwalking.

He'd decided that he'd go take a shower. Maybe that would help him stay awake.

Ron seemed to have a sixth Harry-sense, because as soon as he stared to walk away Ron's eyes snapped open.

"Where are you going?" the redheaded Gryffindor wanted to know.

"Just taking a shower, go back to sleep," he said as reassuringly as he could manage.

Ron mumbled something incoherent back, and was soon snoring again.

Harry smiled weakly and went up to the showers.

"_I will be in control, Harry Potter. I will take over you." _Voldemort's doomsday-voice more annoyed him than scared him at his current state. He was simply too tired.

He stripped out of his trousers and shirt and tossed them haphazardly onto the bathroom floor.

He turned the water on in the shower and stepped in quickly. The cold water woke him up a little, but it soon got warm.

He sank down to the floor and leaned his head back against the tiles. It was so nice and warm here… and he was alone, no one to wake up.

Maybe he could… just a little, just a tiny nap…

His eyes slowly slid shut.

_HARRY POTTER!_

He jumped and his eyes snapped open instantly.

"For Merlin's sake, Voldemort, I thought your plan was to take over me in my sleep, not killing both me and your wicked soul through sleep-deprivation…" he mumbled, irritated.

The soothing, warm water that fell steadily on his head and shoulders soon erased his irritation and left nothing but the growing need to sleep.

"_I can't… not now… not…" _

Everything went black.

Z*z*Z

Harry regained consciousness when a piercing feeling shot through his knuckles and hand. It felt like it was being ripped open by monstrous claws.

He opened his eyes.

"_Oh, it's just the broken mirror…" _

His bloody hand was in the middle of the board where the mirror that now lay in shards around his feet had been.

"_Did I do that?" _

He turned his head to watch the shards.

Suddenly his world swaged, and the floor came closer. It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't falling, that it was in fact his body which moved by the accord of someone else than himself. His arm came in view as it reached to pick up one of the larger, pointed shards.

In the next second he recognized the feeling – it was the same as in his dream.

"_I told you I would be in control," _Voldemort's smug voice told him from inside his mind.

A moment of panic shot through his mind as Voldemort sat his body down a few feet from the shards. He couldn't do anything!

His arm lifted the shard and held it in front of his face, as if to show it to him. His mirror image flashed by in the shard. His eyes were wide and frightened, but a grim smile lifted his lips.

Then his traitorous body lowered both his arm and his gaze, and set them both at his left wrist.

The panic increased as he realized what Voldemort was trying to do.

"_You need to die, Harry Potter, for me to be able to take over your body."_ Voldemort confessed aloud with Harry's own familiar voice, and pressed the shard against his wrist.

The pain was cold, but the blood that flowed out of the wound was burningly hot.

For a moment he was in complete and utter shock. Then his survival instincts kicked in. He fought desperately to regain control. But Voldemort still held the power and closed his jaw tightly.

But it was _his_ body, _his _mind and he had the advantage.

"Ron!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as soon as he felt Voldemort's control budge. To his great surprise the door to the bathroom immediately slammed open. Ron must have come up without him hearing it.

He saw confusion and disbelief in Ron's eyes as he took in the scene. His blood was dripping from his wrist and into a small pool on the floor. Voldemort was slowly sliding away.

"Take this from me. Quickly!" he ordered with the steadiest voice he could manage.

Ron got what he meant and was quickly at his side and took the mirror-shard from his hand.

"Harry, why did you do this?" Ron asked thickly and reached for a towel to wrap around the bleeding wound.

"You promised me! You promised me just yesterday that-…!"

"Ron," he interrupted sharply, the tiredness for once gone, "I didn't do this."

Ron looked confusedly up at him.

"I didn't do this. Voldemort did."

* * *

THE LINE IS NOT AGREEING WITH ME!

so, that's better! :D

Ok, so, what I was going to write was: Gasp, whatever will they to!

Oh, not to worry, you impatient one's; Draco will have his grand entrance any minute now. ;)  
I'll see you guys tomorrow!


	4. December 16th

**Chapter 4**

"We need to get you down to Hermione," Ron said tightly and rose.

He nodded weakly. Now that he didn't need to convince Ron anymore the tiredness returned as the blood slowly colored the white towel red.

"Don't worry, she can fix this, it's just a cut," he wasn't sure if Ron was talking to him or not, "Put your trousers back on and we'll go down, she should be back by now. She should have been back a long while ago…" Ron mumbled.

He hadn't even realized that he still was naked, but at the moment he had neither enough blood nor energy to really care.

He put his trousers on in silence, steadied by Ron. When he reached for his shirt the other Gryffindor stopped him.

"Skip that Harry, we don't have time for modesty right now," he said with a smile, but worry shone from his eyes.

Harry nodded briefly and let Ron steady him on the way down to the common room.

Like Ron had said, Hermione was there, and it seemed like she had been for a while.

"Hermione," Ron called across the room, unfortunately dragging far more attention to them than Harry had wanted in his half-naked state.

Hermione looked up at them. And frowned.

"Harry, why have you no shirt on?" she asked as they reached her. Ron dumped him on the couch.

"Look at his wrist instead of his chest, Hermione," Ron said and sank down on the couch beside Harry.

Hermione gasped as she saw the bloody towel around his wrist and hand.

"What have you done, Harry!" she burst and began to unfold the towel. "Oh Ron, you need to keep an eye on him! We kn-…!"

"I didn't do this to myself, Hermione," he said tiredly. Hermione stopped in her unwrapping.

"What do you mean?" she asked seriously.

"It's getting worse," Ron said from their side.

They both turned to look at him.

"Is this true, Harry?" Hermione asked and met his eyes, as if she dared him to lie to her.

"Yes, I don't know exactly what happened, but somehow Voldemort took control over my body even though I was awake. There was nothing I could do." he explained.

Hermione went silent and fastened her eyes on the towel. The bloodstain was still spreading, but not as quickly as before.

"You have to explain all of this before I can heal you, I can't concentrate otherwise." She said slowly.

"Hermione! You can't do that, his life is-…"

"Ron! If I can't concentrate properly I may end up hurting him instead of healing him!" she bit back.

"Oh…" was all Ron could say.

"It's no problem, I can explain quickly," Harry said to comfort Ron.

Hermione nodded for him to begin.

"Well… after you went to the library, Ron fell asleep and I fought not to, because I could feel Voldemort poking around in my head. So around five I decided to go up and take a shower to stay awake, but I ended up falling asleep in there instead…" He paused for a moment, recalling things he thought he'd forgotten. "Wait, as I went up the stairs Voldemort said something in my head… he does that at times… something about that he was going to be in control soon…" He got lost in thoughts for a moment, until Hermione cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Oh, yeah, right… I woke because my hand hurt, I was standing and I think I'd hit the mirror… Or rather that Voldemort had made me hit the mirror… anyway, that's when I noticed that I wasn't in control. He used my body to pick up one of the shards, then sat me down and cut my wrist. He told me that I needed to die for him to be able to take over my body… Then I started fighting him, won, and called for Ron…"

He had a feeling that his speaking wasn't very coherent.

Hermione was silent for a long while.

"This is bad…" she said.

"I know..." Ron agreed.

Harry felt somewhat left out even though it was him they were talking about.

"Harry, somehow Voldemort's spell has gained power. And because you can't sleep, you are _losing _power. He can obviously control your body for brief moments, and _obviously _brief moments is all he needs. We need to be more careful from now on," Hermione said with a thoughtful look.

"Yes, and that means no switching rooms for you," Ron said quickly.

Harry sighed.

"I _have _to switch rooms, Ron; you guys haven't slept a full night for weeks," he said and rubbed his eyes.

"But-" Ron started to protest.

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, "I agree with Harry on that one,"

"What? But you just said-…!"

"I _know _what I said Ron, but I'm going to need your help with some research and you won't be of any help if you can't sleep. And besides, I have found someone who can watch Harry for us."

Ron stared at her like she was insane.

"You make it sound like he is a dog…" Ron commented slowly.

"Ah, you boys can be so slow sometimes!" Hermione sighed loudly, "I have found our Slytherin," Hermione explained.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but he beat him to it. He couldn't afford Ron's mean comments right now.

"And?" he wanted to know.

"Well, it's a he. And I got him to take the oath after some persuasion and help from McGonagall and Snape. He is the best, _one hundred and sixty seven_ generations of pureblood witches and wizards, and that is just as far as the records go. If he doesn't do the trick no one will." She took a deep breath. "But my point is that we can't afford to lose him, even more now that we know how powerful the spell really is. That means that you probably will have to stay here over Christmas, Harry, seeing as a trip to the Burrow might scare him off. And you are_ not _allowed to insult him, understand?" Hermione said and pointed a finger in their general direction.

"Merlin, Hermione, we _can _behave, you know?" Ron muttered. "It's just a Slytherin after all…"

"This '_Just Slytherin' _as you so neatly put it, may save Harry's life." Hermione's eyes flared.

"When can he be here?" Harry asked to stop his friends' argument.

"Oh, he said that he'd be here any minute," Hermione said and gazed towards the huge clock in the room.

In that very moment the door swung open and their Slytherin walked in as if he owned the room. The common room went silent. The Slytherin spotted them and walked over.

"Weasel," he greeted, "Granger… Potter…" the blond looked at him for a few seconds, from the bloody towel around his hand to his naked chest.

"Granger, why is Potter not wearing a shirt?" asked Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Gasp!  
No, a little less epic ending this time, thank Merlin. And FINALLY; Malfoy (and I had to re-type that like three times.. -.-' ) has entered the picture! Yes, now the interesting stuff starts! (I hope)

Well, hope you are pleased with everything so far! ;)  
Not many readers though (though I am very pleased with those I have! :D ). Well, that's probably because my summary sucks. -.-'

Anywho, I'll see you tomorrow! Well, unless you leave a review, that is. ;)

Bye for now!


	5. December 16, 17, 18th

**Chapter 5**

"Malfoy," Ron growled.

"And why hasn't anyone cared to heal that wound?" Malfoy asked and walked to Harry and unfolded the towel.

"Malfoy," Ron said again, this time as a warning.

Malfoy just scoffed and drew his wand, healing the cut before Ron got a chance to go to attack.

"Malfoy," Hermione greeted tightly.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, seems like you three have been waiting for me," the blond commented as he gracefully sat down onto the couch beside Harry.

Inspecting gray eyes turned towards him. He glared back as they watched him. "And you look horrible, by the way, Potter,"

"Thank you, I haven't slept in a few months," he answered tightly, now more than ever hating the hoarseness in his voice and how vulnerable it made him sound.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"I understand that is why I am here, but I think I need a bit more filling in. Granger, please?"

Malfoy acted like he owned the world, and other people existed there simply to amuse him.

Ron seemed to notice this too.

"Hermione, seriously, _him? _Why!"

"I told you before Ron, and you're being rude," Hermione said, but looked just as displeased by the situation as Ron.

"I have a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head with a spell on it. It takes over my dreams at night and my body at daytime; just now it tried to slit my wrist open, like you saw. We think that a pureblood can be able to put a lid on the spell, so to speak. You are the lid."

Malfoy looked at him for a long time.

"You always get yourself into the strangest situations, Potter," Malfoy said dryly.

Ron looked like he was about to have an eruption behind the blond.

"It's the situations that get me," Harry protested.

Somehow, arguing with Malfoy was refreshing. It was something steadfast in his otherwise upside-down life.

"Not the point. I am the only one who can help you, right?" Malfoy asked smugly.

"Right," he confirmed angrily.

"Fine, then I'll do it. From the kindness in my heart."

"You don't have a heart."

"Whatever, you shouldn't be the one complaining," Malfoy said with a shrug, and then turned to Hermione. "Granger, instructions please, from someone with a little higher intelligence than shoe size," Malfoy demanded.

The flare of rage towards the Slytherin gave Harry energy that he hadn't possessed in months.

"Not much intelligence is needed, thankfully," he said before Hermione could get to it, "you just have to touch me when I sleep,"

"Interesting choice of words there, Potter," Malfoy said and raised an eyebrow.

Harry pressed down a furious blush.

"It's all in the ears of the interpreter," he bit back.

Malfoy just gave him his most hateful glare.

"Well then, if it's just as simple as sleeping beside him, the-…"

"Don't you dare try hurting him, Malfoy," Ron said in a threatening tone.

Malfoy threw an icy glare in Ron's direction.

"Don't you worry about your little boyfriend, Weasel, I have already sworn the Unbreakable Vow not to kill, torture or do anything with the pure intention of hurting him," Malfoy said and threw an annoyed glance in Hermione's direction.

"Well, there are a few things that you need to know…" Hermione started explaining.

Now when he didn't have Malfoy's full attention and Hermione was talking in her teacher-voice Harry found it hard to keep his eyes open. Maybe it had something to do with the amount of blood he had lost, but he put up much less of a fight than he used to as he drifted off to sleep.

_Harry Potter… _the small words were little more than a whisper.

Z*z*Z

"Regaining consciousness now, are we?" a teasing voice said beside him.

Harry groaned in bliss. Sleep. It was a wonderful thing.

Wait, sleep…? That meant…

"Malfoy, is that you?" he asked, reluctant to open his eyes.

"Yes, and I have been lying in _our _room, in _our _bed for the last seventeen hours," Malfoy complained.

"It worked," Harry said with a lazy smile over his lips.

"It sure as hell did, now go back to sleep, Granger won't let us out of here until you have slept at least twenty four hours," Malfoy ordered, and Harry thought that he'd be happy to oblige.

"Come a bit closer, will 'ya?" he mumbled sleepily and put his head on Malfoy's soft chest.

"Hey!" Malfoy protested, "I agreed to be some sort of weird dream-guardian, not your personal pillow!"

"If you are one, you might as well be both," he mumbled and took Malfoy's arm in a firm grip.

"Bloody Gryffindors…" was the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep again.

Z*z*Z

The next time Harry woke he felt well rested and very comfortable. It was clearly night-time outside.

He looked around the room in the darkness. It obviously was his and Malfoy's new bedroom. It looked just like a usual Gryffindor-dorm. The bed was a little larger and there was only the one, but otherwise it was the same.

A thick book laid on the bedside-table, and a bit of parchment marked a page almost halfway through the pages. Malfoy had obviously done some serious reading while he was asleep.

The Slytherin himself lay sleeping beside him, his chest still an excellent pillow. It didn't seem like Malfoy moved much in his sleep. Something that probably was good if they needed to maintain contact for the protection to work.

Malfoy looked so much less evil in his sleep. His face was relaxed and his blond hair hung all over his forehead. The white skin looked like marble, illuminated by the moon.

Malfoy had joined him in his shirtless state, most likely to maximize contact. He wondered briefly who had levitated and undressed him, but figured that he didn't care.

The world seemed like a carefree place with sleep in it. Even the night seemed lighter than his days had done for months.

He watched Malfoy breathe for a while, then laid his head on the other man's chest again loving the comfort and calm it brought him to do so. Maybe he'd have way too much pride to do it later on, but this night he was to glad to be alive and sleeping again to really care about pride.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night outside as he waited for the day to come.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, watching the sun rise was a wonderful thing.

* * *

_Most un-epic end ever! _*already snoring*

No, but seriously, no cliffhanger this time (_*chuckles to herself; knows how the next chapter ends*_). But, well, hope you enjoyed it anyways. I know it really wasn't the most eventful of chapters, I had to illustrate how well Malfoy works. I have a plan. Though it might not seem like it, I have a plan. ;)

And last but not least; I want to thank all you who reviewed a gazillion times! It warms my heart to hear such lovely words!

Until next time, guys!

Ps. Oh! And another thing! I'm keeping track of which date it is in the story (day of the week and all) and now I have re-named the chapters to the date it takes place. If you are leaving a review, could you let me know if this is annoying or something good? Ds.


	6. December 18th, Friday

Chapter 6

"Good morning," Harry greeted cheerfully as Malfoy opened his eyes.

Malfoy moaned in reply.

"I take it you slept well…" the blond said and glared at him.

"Wonderfully, thank you," he said and climbed out of bed.

He had felt like running a few laps around the quidditch-field since he woke, but the thing Malfoy had said –that he had been laying beside him for seventeen hours – had kept him in bed.

"You want to play some quidditch?" he asked, feeling like he had enough energy to fly to the moon.

Hey, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea…?

"With you? This early?" Malfoy asked superiorly, and opened a gray eye to glance at him.

"Well yeah, and it _is _past nine," Harry said and pulled a shirt over his head.

"I will _not _spend the first day of my Christmas break with you. I fully intend to get out of here as soon as I'm awake enough. I do have a social life, you know," Malfoy said and pulled the covers over his head.

He couldn't help but laugh.

"Actually, no you don't. Almost no one will stay at the castle this year, first Christmas without Voldemort and all, probably even Ron and Hermione will go home for a few days now that they're sure of that I won't die," he said and stripped out of his trousers.

Malfoy's blond head quickly appeared again.

"We're going to the Weasleys'?" the Slytherin asked with a face of true and plain horror.

Harry laughed again.

Maybe he should have been offended, but he was in a too good mood to take Malfoy's childishness to heart.

"No, you don't need to worry, I'm not expected, and now that you are here and the sleeping thing with you works, I doubt Hermione will let me go – she'd be too worried that it should scare you off."

"It certainly would!" Malfoy exclaimed.

Then the grey gaze turned towards his bare legs.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter! You can at least _pretend _that you have some modesty!" Draco complained and quickly hid beneath the covers again.

"Why pretend? I have modesty." he said as he pulled his trousers back on.

"Then show it, you dolt," came the Slytherin's muffled voice.

Harry just laughed and went outside.

Z*z*Z

As the wind – freezing and harsh, but still pleasant – blew in his face, Harry realized that it was a long time since he had been outside. In fact, it was a long time since he had done _anything. _He couldn't go to class without exhausting himself to the point where he actually had to sit down in the corridor to rest. The teachers just made it even harder to stay awake. Books… well, he didn't even need a sleep-depriving Voldemort in his head to fall asleep off them. Quidditch felt like the perfect way to spend his first day awake in months.

Without further ado he straddled his broom and shot up into the sky. The increased wind on his face felt like a million tiny hailstones attacking his cheeks, but the thrilling feeling of being in the air again overshadowed it. He stopped his ascent with a laugh and an abrupt twist of his broom.

The world below him was beautiful. It was December, but the snow had yet to fall. Instead, the ground, trees and the Hogwarts castle glittered from a permanent layer of frost.

He'd never thought that he'd feel this way, but thanks to Draco, life definitely was worth living again.

He made a graceful loop, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, and shot further up in the sky as it ended.

He closed in on the castle towers – aiming at the one they used for the astronomy-classes – and marveled at the sight of how everything under him went smaller and smaller. He knew that it probably was stupid to exhaust himself like this on his first day, but he just wanted to go a little higher, a little faster.

The tips of all the towers was now under him, the huge castle looking more and more like a toy as he passed it.

Suddenly a memory of his last dream took over his mind. Before he was able to push it away, Voldemort's mocking and clearly amused voice rang in his ears _"Bye, bye, Harry Potter."_

A flash of green lightning lit up his world without any warning and for a moment he lost all control. A moment was all it took.

As his body went back to being his own again he slowly opened his eyes again and saw his hands let go of the speeding broom. For a moment he felt the same weightlessness as when he'd done that loop, as the speed from his Firebolt still pulled him upwards but the gravity slowly started to make its claim.

The steadily increasing wind around his body made his clothes flap against his body.

"_Please… No…" _he thought as he looked up at his broom, still shooting higher and higher up in the sky, clearly starting to lose control.

A twist in the air turned his body around. The ground came quickly rushing against him.

The thought that if he'd decided to kill himself, his first alternative probably would've been jumping from the astronomy tower flashed into his mind. And now Voldemort had chosen a similar fate for him. On the very first day since he'd killed the bastard he'd actually thought that everything would be alright.

He closed his eyes as the wind started to draw tears from them.

"_Why do I find myself unable to appreciate the irony?"

* * *

_

_(A/N: I'd say it was a cliffhanger, but he's already falling, so...)_

Yes, I know, incredibly shot chapter and a mean ending, but it will have to do...

Thank you for all your amazing comments!  
Until next time!


	7. December 18th

**Chapter 7**

There was no flashing of his life before his eyes as he saw that ground quickly come closer. Strangely enough, he'd never seen anything remotely like a flashback as he faced death – more often than not wearing the appearance of Voldemort. Which actually was quite good considering that it probably would've been terribly distracting.

Suddenly he tumbled around in the air and was pulled harshly upwards by an invisible force. He'd never gone skydiving, but he was sure that the feeling was similar to the one when the parachute unfolded and halted the fall.

Whatever it was, it only slowed his fall. He felt it pulling at him, hindering his falling-speed from increasing, but gravity was still winning. By far.

This time he felt the spell hit him, and this one was stronger, stopping his fall more successfully than its predecessor, even shooting him up in the air again for a brief moment.

For the first time since he'd started falling, panic shot up in his chest. From the moment when Voldemort had let go of his broom, there had been something inevitable about the whole situation. But now, when he tumbled around in the air, someone was clearly trying to save him. Now he _maybe _would survive. But it all was in the hands of that other someone.

And that _maybe _made the panic come.

He couldn't be more than 40 feet from the ground, head first, and the spell was still pulling, but it wasn't enough. If he hit the ground, he'd die.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the unforgiving ground break his fall, not wanting to see it break _him_.

From nothing, he suddenly felt something far from a spell pulling desperately at his ankle. Somehow it turned him around in the air. The _someone_ somehow got an arm around his waist and pulled even more fiercely. He felt a broom connect harshly with his upper thigh. But it wasn't enough to halt the fall. They fell together, but slower than he'd done alone.

_Maybe, just maybe. _

He didn't dare to open his eyes.

He felt the man that held him make a desperate pull at the broom, sending them almost upwards for a moment. Then the man spun them around, placing himself between Harry and the ground, and let go of the broom in the last second.

The impact came, harsh, in a tangle of limbs and bodies. They slid over the frozen ground, rolled over each other time and time again. He felt something tear up his shirt and make a long scratch over his ribs, and something crashing against his knee. They lifted from the ground for a moment, and he grabbed the other man like he was his only lifeline.

They hit the ground again, but slowly slid to a halt.

_I'm alive, _Harry realized.

He lay atop of whoever it was that had saved him, his knuckles probably already turning white from the convulsive way he grabbed on to the fabric that probably was his shirt.

The man coughed just by his face, the sound almost deafening loud in his ears for some reason.

"Hey, 'you alive, Potter?" the man asked hoarsely.

"Surprisingly," he managed, thinking that he probably should roll off his savior, but unable to quite bring himself to do it.

"Good, Granger would've killed me if you died,"

Harry forced his eyes to open.

"Malfoy?" he asked, surprised.

In any normal, less painful, situation where Malfoy just hadn't saved his life, he probably would've both screamed and ran away from the Slytherin, but now he didn't even manage a sigh.

"Yeah, I have to make sure that you don't die on me thanks to that unbreakable vow, remember?" Draco said softly from under him.

"You moron," he breathed in the Slytherins ear, "Hermione made sure that the vow was formulated in a way that made sure that you didn't need to do anything but the mere necessities."

Draco sighed under him. "How do you know that?"

"Because I made her do it,"

Malfoy fell silent for a while. Harry waited for a more satisfying response; Malfoy must have been aware that the vow required nothing like this, seeing as he had sworn it, not none came. None satisfying, anyhow.

"Well, I won't let you die anyways," and before Harry got a chance to reply to that confusing statement, the Slytherin continued, "Do you think you've broken anything?"

"More than my broom, no, thanks to you," he said.

"Yeah, you're welcome, but will you please get off of me?"

"Oh, sorry," he said and rolled off.

Despite having been under him at the moment of impact, Malfoy must have gotten out of the landing with a much milder sentence than himself, because he slowly started to stand up as soon as Harry was off him.

"Come on now," the Slytherin said and stretched out a hand for him to grab, "I'm sure your freaky friends won't forgive me if you catch a cold even if I just saved your ass,"

Despite Malfoy's harsh words, he saw no malice in his face through his half lidded eyes. He let out a groan but stretched out his sore hand for Malfoy to grab. The Slytherin caught him smoothly as he pulled him to his feet, and slung Harry's arm over his shoulder to help him support himself.

"How come you can stand on your own without breaking apart?" he asked as he winced at the feeling in his left knee.

"I cast a protection-spell over myself before saving you, but if it makes you feel better I probably will be purple all over tomorrow, too," Malfoy assured.

Harry didn't bother to ask why Malfoy hadn't cast one over him too. He was alive, for the moment that was enough.

Z*z*Z

They had somehow managed to get back to the castle and the Gryffindor tower without any major disasters. Malfoy had dumped Harry on the couch in front of Hermione and Ron with a grim "We've got a problem," and he had lain there since.

Now, almost ten minutes later, Malfoy had finally managed to satisfy Hermione's need for details.

"What do you think happened?" Harry asked Hermione, not quite managing to lift his head from the pillows.

"I think you got out of range from Malfoy's influence," Hermione stated, matter-of-factly.

"What?" Ron asked, surprised, "I thought that... _thing _was only needed when Harry slept?"

"No one knows what is happening while we're sleeping, but we obviously aren't in as much control as when we're awake, that's probably why Ron didn't help with your dreams since it's easier for Voldemort to take over when you're sleeping..." Hermione fell silent, obviously lost in thought. In the end, Malfoy was the one who spoke up.

"That's why I'm here. Obviously the bastard found out a way to control Potter when he was awake, too. Explaining the sliced wrists. We thought that I could help with that, too. And I believe I could. Before."

Harry sat up slowly, careful not to hurt his throbbing ribs.

"Malfoy..." he said, but his voice died there, not quite sure what he wanted to get out.

The grey eyes met his briefly before Malfoy spoke, "What I'm saying is... Voldemort is getting stronger. And it's going fast."

* * *

And... done!

I'm sorry if not much makes sense yet, but it will, I promise. (I know that because I've written it already.)

Until next time, everyone!


	8. December 20th

**Chapter 8**

"So you think Ron managed to keep Voldemort off first, but then he grew too strong, and now the same thing has happened to you?" Hermione asked.

"Didn't I just say that?," Malfoy asked. "Potter, when you decided to go all suicidal, when did you manage to push Voldemort away?"

He thought for a moment, choosing to ignore Malfoy's insult.

"Just a few second before I called out for help," he answered.

Ron stared at him.

"That's when I got upstairs," the redhead said slowly, probably imagining what would've happened if he hadn't gone to the dorms in that very moment. "But that was just two days ago!"

He saw Malfoy meet Ron's eyes with a grim expression.

"Exactly,"

"Shit," Harry said and fell back on the couch.

"What an eloquent way to summarize our situation, Potter," Malfoy drawled.

Z*z*Z

"Stop poking at your bruises, dimwit," Malfoy said absentmindedly as he flipped a page in the book in front of him.

Harry quickly hid his hand under the table.

Two days had passed since the broom-incident. Ron and Hermione had gone home to their respective families this morning after much persuasion. Hopefully they wouldn't worry too much during the holiday. He had promised to stay close to Malfoy all the time, and the Slytherin had in return promised not to kill him – which really wasn't necessary considering that unbreakable vow of his.

Harry himself on the other hand had promised no such thing. If things got much worse, he'd apperate himself to Arctic, break his wand in two and kill himself. When Voldemort took over his body out there he couldn't do much damage before he died. Especially if he drowned himself. Yeah that was a good idea.

"Don't think about killing yourself either, Potter, Granger will blame me if you do that," Malfoy said and flipped the page again.

Harry didn't bother denying it.

"How did you know I thought about that?" he asked, a little annoyed by Malfoy's superior tone.

"You always tap your foot when you do it. That's another reason for you to stop thinking about it; your tapping is getting annoying,"

Harry pressed his lips together in annoyance, but followed Malfoy's advice and changed his mental subject. It couldn't be healthy thinking so much about killing yourself when all you wanted was a chance to live anyway.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

They were in the library because the Slytherin had said that he wanted to get some reading done, but he'd never said about what.

"I'm trying to find something about what will happen if Voldemort manages to kill you," Draco said and finally looked up.

Harry swallowed as his thoughts jumped right back on the suicidal track again.

"Do you think I should do it?" he asked.

He had asked Ron and Hermione about it, but they couldn't be objective. They couldn't be completely unselfish. And he couldn't blame them. But he thought Malfoy neither liked or disliked him enough to lose his objectiveness.

"Do I think you should do what?" the Slytherin asked, closing his book with a heavy sigh.

"Do you think I should go to the North Pole and drown myself?" He said.

Malfoy looked at him for a moment; then his head tipped backwards as he laughed.

Harry felt his cheeks heat, but mostly it was the lump in his throat that bothered him. He lowered his eyes and looked away.

"By Merlin, Potter, are you serious?" Malfoy asked as he saw him, all laughter gone in his voice.

"I've thought about it, like you noticed, and it's the best plan I've come up with. There's nearly no people up there, so if Voldemort takes over my body, there's not much to kill up there anyway. Breaking my wand will probably help to, and if I jump in the water from atop an iceberg he hopefully won't be able to-..."  
"Stop." Malfoy interrupted him harshly. "Stop, you do realize what we're talking about here, don't you?"

Harry stared back at Malfoy. He knew all too well.

The Slytherin let out a deep sigh and mumbled something suspiciously similar to _I'm not supposed to do this. _

"Potter, this is your first chance to live in eighteen years, in your _life. _You shouldn't be throwing that away."

Malfoy looked like he'd rather be singing the Hogwarts-song at the top of his lungs than talking about this. Any other time Harry might have been amused. Now he just stared blankly back.

"Gee, Potter, ever tried thinking of yourself at some point in your life? It works fine for other people, you know?"

Now Harry actually got angry.

"So this is the right time to think about myself? Right now? Right now that the only thing that ties Voldemort to this world is _my _head? Right now that my only two choices are to live the few months, _weeks _maybe, I have left knowing if I choose that, Voldemort can return and kill thousands of people through killing me. Knowing that those people _died_ because I was selfish and gutless! Or I can end all this, knowing that those people will live!"

He had stood sometime during his speech, but couldn't quite remember when. Now Draco stood too, looking as angry as he felt.

"No, you won't _know _that those people will live! You will do to yourself _exactly _what Voldemort is trying to do you right now! We have _no idea _what will happen if you die, what he can do if that happens! It's way more likely that he figured that you'd try something like your little Arctic-plan and all you'll have ended up doing is playing straight into his hands! You'll have set him free and left the world without your protection and you'll have _given up!" _at the last two words Malfoy pushed him harshly back onto the couch they had been sitting on before.

They stared at each other for long moments, the Slytherin panting heavily after his out-burst

"You're right," Harry admitted finally, but maintained the eye-contact, "I shouldn't do it."

Malfoy let out a sigh and looked away as he shoved a hand in his previously perfect hair as he sat down.

"That's what I said,"

"So what do you suggest that we do, then?" Harry asked.

Malfoy grew silent as he stared at the cover of his book, as if an answer would magically pop up there.

"I think..." Malfoy's voice died away as he lost himself in thought, before he took a deep breath and started over again, "I think we need to find out how much time we have, how much Voldemort's powers are growing and how they're doing just that,"

They fell silent for a while as they both tried to figure out how to get the information they needed.

"I think I know a way to find out the first part..." Harry said finally.

"What? How?" Malfoy asked and straightened up.

"We just check how far away I can get from you and compare from day to day. It's not very precise but it's-"

"It's enough," Malfoy decided quickly. "Shall we?"

"Now?" he asked, surprised.

"Why not, now is as good as ever," the Slytherin said with a shrug as he stood.

"Oh... okay..." Harry said and stood too, even though he didn't in any way look forward to be in Voldemort's control. "How do we do this?"

"Back away from me while counting your steps, and just tell me when you can feel him," Malfoy said and placed himself to give them as much space as possible.

Harry confirmed with a nod and slowly started walking away, still facing Malfoy.

He had gotten to seventy nine when he suddenly bumped into a table, and out of nowhere hell broke loose. Green flashed before his eyes and he felt steel in his hand. Fear mixed with anticipated victory inside of him as the line between Voldemort and himself was smudged. He identified the cold object in his hand as a knife that must have been placed at the table he'd bumped into.

_Just my luck._

Through half-lidded eyes as his armed hand jerked towards his chest.

"_Expelliarmus!" _the spell hit him and the knife he held flew from his hand, merely scraping his already wounded torso, and hit the far wall.

He turned to see Malfoy sprinting towards him. The Slytherin reached him within seconds, and pressed him up against a bookshelf. For some reason probably neither of them knew, but not was going to question either, the blond pulled him close with an arm around his shoulders in a not-quite-hug.

"I didn't know _Expelliarmus_ worked on knives..." he said and let out a heavy breath as he leaned closer to Malfoy, shuddering as he felt Voldemort disappear. He made a mental note never to try this again.

"Me neither," came Draco's tight answer.

* * *

Hope you enjoy!

I'm baking cream puffs so I have to go now!

Until next time, everyone!


	9. December 21st

Chapter 9

"Get the fuck away from me idiot!"

"I can't _fucking _get away from you, remember?" Harry screamed back, trying to imitate Malfoy's ridiculous swearing through his rage.

"_I don't care!" _Malfoy roared back. "It's not like it's _my _fault that you have the Dark Lord in your head, you fucking weirdo!"

"Stop swearing so fucking much!" he screamed back. Unfortunately, this time, the curse was without intent.

Malfoy snorted loudly with his usual mask of superiority firmly in place.

"As soon as you start to bloody _think_ before you speak, dipshit," the Slytherin replied with cold anger.

"I can't take this anymore, _dying _is a far better option than spending another _minute _with you!" Harry yelled and threw his hands up in the air in a yielding gesture.

"Thought you'd never say it," Malfoy said, hatred radiating from his cold stare. "An agreement, finally,"

Harry's jaw set as he stared back, then he turned around and walked out of the Gryffindor common room.

He didn't get farther than _out _though, thanks to Lord I'm-going-to-kill-you-by-forcing-you-to-be-with-Malfoy Voldemort.

He'd never been very creative when he was mad. That was another big difference between the two of them; Malfoy had some sort of cold anger, the madder he got the cooler he became. That was not the way things worked for Harry.

"Potter!" Malfoy's voice suddenly bellowed from inside.

He sighed deeply. What in Merlin's name did the prat want now?

"Potter!" Malfoy roared again.

He growled the password to the Fat lady and stepped inside again.

"What?" he demanded.

Malfoy, who had placed himself in one of the big armchairs, nodded lazily towards the fireplace. He was just about to start screaming at the Slytherin again before he spotted Hermione's face in the flames.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed happily and ran over to the fireplace and fell to his knees. "How are you? What are you doing in there? I didn't know you could call to Hogwarts?"

Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.

"I'm fine Harry, thank you, I needed to talk to you, and no, you can't normally call Hogwarts – as you'd know if you had read _Hogwarts: A History –_ but I sent an owl to McGonagall and asked permission; it came back just a few minutes ago," Hermione explained patiently. "How are you doing?" her smile was replaced with a worried frown.

He made a face.

"I'm fine," he said. Lied. Whatever.

"No he's not, he tried to kill himself again just yesterday..." Malfoy said loudly behind him.

Thank Merlin that there was no one in the common room other than them.

"Harry!" Hermione burst out.

"Don't worry, he's exaggerating," he tried to calm her, and shot a death-glare in the Slytherin's general direction.

"I am _not_, you took a knife and tried to stick it in your chest," Malfoy stated calmly.

"_Harry!" _

"Will you shut up!" he screamed at Malfoy.

"No."

"_Why _did you try to kill yourself, Harry!" Hermione demanded loudly, causing flames to shoot out from the fireplace, scorching the decorations placed upon it. He took a moment to feel sorry for the ancient wooden chess pieces which ran around trying to put out the smoldering whilst screeching in panic.

"_I _did _nothing _with that knife! _Voldemort _tried to kill myself!"

Hermione glared suspiciously at him for a moment, probably pondering on whether she should believe him or not.

"That sentence is both disturbing and grammatically incorrect," Hermione stated finally, "And how could you let Harry out of your sight Malfoy!" she screamed over to the Slytherin, the chess pieces running for cover. "May I point out that I'm not his baby-sitter, he has as much responsibility to keep close to me as I to him," Malfoy said and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Besides, we did it on purpose," Malfoy ended with a shrug.

That was _not _the right thing to say.

"You did _what! _That's it I'm coming back and _you-_...!"

"_Calm down, _Hermione! We did it so we could see how much power Voldemort had over me! It's the best way to check from day to day how much stronger he gets!"

"But...!" Hermione protested weakly, but fell silent. "It's a good idea..." she then admitted, "But you have to be more careful from now on,"

"Yes, Hermione, we will," Harry promised with a sigh.

"So, now, what have you found out since I left?"

"Hermione! It was three days ago!" he exclaimed.

But suddenly Malfoy was on his knees beside him. He hated to admit it, but even the mere distance he'd closed in made a difference. It was as if he suddenly could relax, as if he'd been cold without knowing it, and walked around with stiff shoulders until Malfoy came like a protecting blanket and warmed him.

No. No, Malfoy was no _protecting blanket, _he was an annoying thorn in his side that was as likely to drive him to insanity as Lord Voldemort himself. And that said a lot, seeing as Voldemort had easy access to his brain.

"What have you got?" the Slytherin wanted to know.

"You haven't found anything!" Harry exclaimed, disbelieving. "Or?"

Malfoy just gave him a cold look.

"You've been doing research without telling me the results! It's _me _you're researching!" he said, wanting to punch the Malfoy in the head. Protecting blanket; yeah, right.

"Sod off, Potter."

"Language!" Hermione pointed out, "And _try _to get along, would you?"

"What do you have?" Malfoy repeated.

"To tell you the truth, I've got nothing. I brought some... well, some piles of books with me, but so far they've only described what we already know, if even that much," Hermione admitted with a defeated sigh.

"I've got mostly the same thing... but..." the Slytherin's voice died away.

"But what? What have you found?" Hermione asked and straightened up a little at the prospect of a solution or even explanation.

"Well, it's not much actually, mostly the usual possession stuff, but in one book there was this story about a man..."

"What?" Hermione demanded as Malfoy's voice died away again.

"He... well, it didn't state outright that he was possessed, I don't think that the author knew, but the symptoms fit with what we know so far, and-..."

"_What?" _both Harry and Hermione said.

"He died, four months after the possession started." Malfoy admitted without further coating.

The room fell in complete silence. Four months. That was without having the spirit of the most powerful wizard being who possessed you. That was without taking into consideration that the world was likely to be destroyed should they fail.

"That means," he said, breaking the silence, "That I probably have less than two months two live."

"Oh stop being so melodramatic, Potter," the Slytherin snorted in reply.

That was without having to deal with Malfoy's constant presence. He'd be lucky to live a week.


	10. December 22nd, Tuesday

**Chapter 10**

"Salazar, Potter, can't you use your own soap?" Malfoy said two newly installed shower-curtains away.

"How did you know I was using your soap?" Harry asked, annoyed and a little embarrassed at being caught.

"I can smell it from over here, dugbogbrain,"

"Hey!" he protested, "I'm not a _dugbogbrain!" _

"_Why _are you using my soap, Potter?" Malfoy demanded, ignoring his affront.

"Why not? I'm out of mine anyway..."

"No you're not, it's over here,"

Suddenly a very naked Draco Malfoy stood beside him in the shower.

"Here's your damn soap, Potter, now give mine back," the Slytherin demanded and held out his open palm after sticking Harry's own bottle in his hand.

Harry managed to perplexed stare back, nothing more. What in Merlin's name was Malfoy doing in _his _shower? The space was less than a four square feet, for heaven's sake!

"It's over there," he managed to choke out, finally. Malfoy gave him a strange look, and then bent over to pick it up.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat and he spun around quickly.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy drawled as he straightened up, "Not comfortable enough in your sexuality to see my ass?"

_No, not right now, for some damned reason. _

"Get out of here, Malfoy," he said and shoved Malfoy to the other side of the curtain.

"Fuck of, Potter," the Slytherin growled, clearly annoyed that Harry hadn't thrown any insults back.

"Malfoy," he asked after a while, reluctant to break the safe silence, "Why didn't you... tell me about the things you found in those books?"

He had wanted it to come out like he was willing to cooperate, like he wouldn't fight. Instead he heard blame and annoyance in his own voice.

"You're so coherent, Potter," the Slytherin stated, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, forget it then!" Harry growled.

"And eloquent, too, I hear,"

The smugness in the other man's voice drove Harry insane, even though he had made a mental promise to himself not to pick un-necessary fights with his only lifeline.

"I'm sorry if my language is too simple for you, Mr. High and Mighty," he spat back.

He could practically see the smile spreading over Malfoy's lips as he got a reaction from him.

His clenched fists shook with the need to punch something, preferably Malfoy. He banged it against the wall, seeing as nothing more satisfying was within an arm's reach.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy! I actually thought that we might be able to get along for once in our lives! But it's like you just refuse to get along with me, like I'm something revolting! _You _were the one asking to be friends in our first year!"

"Yeah, my mistake, I admit. But in my defense, I didn't know you back then," the Slytherin's voice was cold and collected but he could hear the complacency behind it.

The discussion was a tad less dramatic than it could have been, seeing as it was held from either side of a shower-curtain on opposite sides of a room. But that was probably good, because he felt like crushing every bone in the Slytherin's body as it were . If they had been closer, he might had gone through with it.

He turned the shower off with a harsh twist, snapped the towel off its hanging and wrapped it tightly around his waist. He slammed the door shut as he walked out of the room and grabbed his pillow from their shared bed.

There was no way in _hell _that he'd sleep together with Malfoy as long as the prat acted like _that. _Meaning that it'd never happen again. What Hermione wanted didn't matter, she didn't have to spend time with _him. _Sure, Voldemort would without a doubt try to take over his head, dreams and most likely try to kill him too, but Voldemort was to prefer over Malfoy. Voldemort was meek in the shadow of the other Slytherin.

Seeing as there wasn't a single Gryffindor in the tower besides him (Malfoy was _in _the tower, but just about as far from a Gryffindor as one could become) he didn't even bother to put on any underwear – or any other clothing, for that matter – but just simply stamped out from their dorm in his towel. And slammed the door shut behind himself after doing so.

He went back to his old dorm, throwing his pillow in his _own_ bed, letting himself collapse onto it right after. He closed his eyes, already feeling Voldemort's damned-to-hell-presence. He shut his eyes tightly, as if that would help.

"Just get the crap out, would you?" he muttered, the blood in his veins still boiling with anger, practically hearing The Dark Lord's chuckle in response, driving him even deeper into his rage.

"Now now, Potter, that isn't the way to greet someone," Malfoy said from the doorway.

Harry cracked one eye open to glare at the most unwanted presence of all. The Slytherin had obviously bothered with putting clothes on, standing there in jeans and a light shirt.

"That goes for you, too," he growled, "In fact, I don't even want to see you until manage to act like a moderately functioning human being." He closed his eyes again and let his head tip back, dismissing the blond.

"You seem to forget that the only reason I'm here is that _you _are in trouble, Potter," Malfoy pointed out.

As he opened his eyes to protest, a pair of his own – clean – boxers landed in his face.

"What the...?" he managed as he took them, staring in confusion.

"You _wear_ them, Potter, I don't know how you usually go about, but with me, you _wear _them," the Slytherin drawled.

"Why, thank _you, _then," Harry spat out and stood, pulling them on, not caring how much the other saw.

He let the towel drop to the floor, and Malfoy shielded his eyes with his fingers with a muttered "_oh Merlin..." _

"What!" he asked, walking up to Malfoy, staring into his face.

The other man was slightly taller than him, not by much, but slightly. And it was annoying. Just like everything else about the prat.

"What?" he said again, and pushed Malfoy's mocking hand away "It's not like we're wearing PJ's sleeping together," he got out, anger making his throat thick.

"Yeah, but then I don't have to _see _you. And you're wearing bottoms,"

Harry's hard punch landed on the wall, a mere inch from the blond head. For a moment Malfoy's eyes actually widened a little. It was over so fast he was barely able to register it.

"_What. Is. Wrong, With. You!" _he screamed in the Slytherin's face. Then he backed away, stalking back and forth across the room. "It actually went alright in the beginning, but now..." he sucked in a deep breath, "Over the last few days it's like you've... you've..."

"Gotten a stick shoved up my ass?" Malfoy suggested calmly.

He stopped and stared into those grey eyes.

"Exactly."

"Well, I can assure you that that isn't the case," the Slytherin continued, but Harry saw the small flame of rage in his eyes. "But you can check if you want." He ignored the other man's statement.

"I can't understand what I've done wrong, what I did to provoke this. You just snapped! I did _nothing! _I just can't understand how you can be this angry all the time, why you're so _constantly _irritated!"

"_This_," Malfoy bellowed, finally exploding, "This is why I'm constantly irritated!" the Slytherin pushed a crumpled parchment into his hand that he had apparently bothered to bring along.

Harry looked down, annoyance mixed with curiosity.

"That's why! I have been bending over backwards trying to figure out a way to solve all this the last few days! And it's all thanks to you! You're the big fucking error in my life Potter!"

He wasn't paying much attention to what Malfoy said, staring down with horror at the parchment in his hands. It was a letter. A letter from Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, demanding that their son would come home before Christmas Eve, or they'd come to get him.

* * *

_One _comment? Seriously... I must've got some shy readers out there. XD  
Or that chapter was just very un-comment-able. (yes, I believe I just invented that word.)

Guys, I have something to announce! Not an hour ago, I got a mail. A mail saying that I was accepted to go to the US as an exchange student next year! YAY! (I'm Swedish, for those who wondered...) MWAHAHAHA!

Anywho, hope you enjoyed!

Until next time, everyone!


	11. December 22nd

**Chapter 11**

"You haven't _told _them!" Harry asked, disbelief high in his voice.

"Of course I haven't told them! What would I say! 'Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I'll stay on Hogwarts this year 'cause I have to sleep in _Harry Potter's fucking bed!"_

"What about just telling them they you wanted to stay!"

Malfoy snorted loudly and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, as if that would work,"

"But not telling them at all? That was smart, you think!"

"I figured that they wouldn't notice," Malfoy said with a shrug.

The statement caught him a little off guard. How the hell could two people miss that their _son_ wasn't home for Christmas?

Harry took a deep breath. Okay, he'd gotten what he wanted, Malfoy had told him why he was irritated, and it was a pretty good reason, too. This wasn't the time to start arguing again.

"Okay, that doesn't matter now, anyway, when are we going to leave?" he asked finally.

"What?" Malfoy asked, light eyebrows shooting up under the blond hair.

"_When _are we going to _leave?" _he repeated.

"Leave where? Where are we going?" the Slytherin asked.

"To your parents, of course," Harry said, "Weren't you listening to yourself?"

Malfoy stared at him like he was crazy.

"Are you insane? I can't bring you to my parents! They'll try to kill you! And that, I have to say, is ridiculously easy these days. Heck, you'd probably do it for them if you get out of reach!"

"Malfoy, we don't have a choice," Harry pointed out.

"Of course we have! We can... we can..." Malfoy's voice died away. "All I know is that we can't go there."

"We _have _to. We can't afford to cause any suspicion, and no offense, but they would be the absolute _worst _people to make suspicious, with your aunt and everything," he pointed out.

Malfoy didn't seem to have anything to retort with.

"True," he finally agreed, "But you _can't _be seen. I'd very much like it if I was able to see my relatives after our little visit without them trying to kill me for being a blood-traitor,"

"That shouldn't be a problem, we just have to figure out a way to know when your parents are coming to your room..."

"That won't be a problem, I could tell you now, if you'd like," Malfoy said sternly.

"What...?" he asked in confusion.

"They _never _come up to my room, they haven't even seen the re-decoration I did in my fourth year," Malfoy explained with a shrug, "They always send a house-elf."

"Oh... okay..." he got out, again taken aback with the ways of the Malfoy family, "Then we just have to figure out how to get me there,"

"_There _you have a real problem, Potter," Malfoy said, "Along with you still not wearing any trousers, of course,"

Rage gone, this time Harry actually blushed.

"Live with it," he managed despite his burning cheeks, but sat down on his bed and pulled the covers over himself.

They fell silent for a while, both trying to figure out a way to get to Malfoy Manor without Harry being discovered.

"We could shrink you and stuff you into one of my bags," Malfoy suggested after nearly five minutes.

"What? No! What if I'm crushed! What if we can't get all of me back to normal size?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's some parts you can live without," the Slytherin said with a wicked grin.

He stared at him in confusion for a moment, before he suddenly got what he meant. He threw his pillow at the blond.

"Yeah, and then there's some parts I _can't,"_

Z*z*Z

"By broom?" Harry suggested ten minutes later.

"Can't fly into my house, Potter," Malfoy stated matter-of-factly beside him.

They both had lain down on the bed just a few minutes ago.

"Christmas Eve is in two days, we need to come up with something,"

"You don't say." Malfoy drawled, "But you see, the problem is that not a single person get in without my father knowing it, seeing as he has put up wards impossible to break down over the whole house – my room being the only one we have at least moderate control over, but that doesn't matter, because it's on the third floor. Not to mention that we can't use magic without setting off at least ten different alarms within four hundred feet from the house. I'd say that we've come up with 'bout as much one possibly can,"

Harry let out a heavy sigh. The blonde's words were disturbingly true.

"Then you'll just have to leave without me," he said finally.

"Are you crazy? You'd be dead in an hour, start coming up with real options, would you, Potter?"

The question _what do you care? _rang clear in his mind, but he decided not to push his luck.

Harry stretched in the bed, shifting a little closer to the Slytherin so that their shoulders nudged each other lightly.

Malfoy gave him a brief look, but let it pass.

The blond was right, however. He, even though it was faintly, felt Voldemort's presence as soon as they didn't touch skin on skin, letting him leave without him would be like running up to the gallows, putting the rope around his own neck.

_Rope..._

He sat up suddenly, saying the word out loud.

"Rope? What are we going to do with _rope, _Potter?" Malfoy asked, "I don't think that tying you up to something while I'm gone is a good solution."

"And neither do I, but you said that you could control the wards around your room?"

"Yes?" Malfoy said hesitantly.

"And we couldn't use magic...?" he waited for Malfoy to get his point.

It didn't take long.

"No... no..." the Slytherin said and shook his head.

Z*z*Z

"If you die doing this, Potter, no one is ever to blame me," Malfoy said as they stood, knee-deep in snow, staring over at Malfoy Manor a few hours later. Each and every window of the huge white building had flicking lights behind them, creating the only light in the dark night.

They met each other's eyes for a brief moment before looking back at the huge building.

"I didn't realize it would be so high..." Harry confessed meekly.

"Well, I said my room was on the third floor,"

"Yeah, but you didn't say that every floor is 20 feet high,"

"Don't be ridiculous, they're only fifteen feet, Potter," Malfoy said and started ploughing through the snow towards the main gates.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, but fell in the deep tracks behind the blond.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked with a shudder.

"I thought you could apparate into the manor, so why don't you?"

"Try to think once in a while, won't you, Potter?" Malfoy said with a sigh, "If I go farther away than 250 feet away from you, you go suicidal, remember? I'll walk you until we are close enough, then you're on your own," Ah, right. He had forgotten.

They continued in silence for about ten minutes, then Malfoy stopped.

"Bloody hell, I hate snow," the Slytherin muttered, panting heavily with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Okay, this should be close enough," he said and straightened up.

"Hurry up when you get in, would you?" he said in something between a pant and a shudder.

Normally, Malfoy probably would have left him out cold – literally – for as long he could manage, but now he, too, had felt the hell that was freezing.

"Sure." Malfoy agreed, "Third floor, the third balcony on the right," he said and pointed upwards.

Then he was gone with a small _pop. _The sudden absence of Malfoy's protecting closeness felt like an explosion in his head, driving him to his knees. It was far from pleasant, but at least he was still in control.

He stood up on shaky legs – not only from the cold – and continued ploughing through the snow. Feeling Voldemort slowly disappear the nearer he came.

When he finally reached the house, he fortunately didn't have to wait very long before the thick rope fell from the sky – or at least Malfoy's private balcony.

"It's tied," came the Slytherin's muffled voice from above.

Harry removed his thick gloves with his teeth and pushed them down in his pocket, hoping that bare hands would be more of an advantage than not.

He gripped the rope and heaved himself upwards. It was harder then he'd expected, and the sudden surges when Malfoy pulled at the rope had him almost losing his grip more than a few times.

_Finally, _oh _finally, _he reached up and got a hold of the balcony itself.

He managed to get out a strangled sound and Malfoy got the hint, got a firm grip around his waist and heaved him over the baluster railing. They both collapsed panting against the cold, hard, but thankfully snow-free, floor.

"I am _never _going to climb a forty-five feet rope, cold, wet and with a ton of clothes again, _ever." _he spat out between his panting.

Malfoy actually laughed as he stood.

"Don't be silly, Potter, I pulled you up at least half the way,"

"Doesn't matter," Harry persevered as he let the Slytherin pull him up to his feet, "I'm still not going to do that ever again."

"Think about it this way, Potter: that was the easy part," Malfoy said.

"What?" he said voice breaking with disbelief.

"Well," Malfoy started as he closed the balcony-doors thoroughly behind them, hindering the cold from seeping inside, "You've just climbed up a rope, now you have to hide from my parents in their own home for three weeks, and if they find out that you're here, you're probably going to die."

* * *

And with this, the main part of the story begins! (Yes, it took me this long... -.-')

I've said it before, and apparently I'll say it again: Updates are daily, often around 18:00-19:00 (Sweden time; about five hours before the Washington time zone). Tomorrow though, it'll either be a bit early or a a bit late; I won't be home.

And another thing there's been a lot of confusion about; the plot. The thing in Harry's head... This story does not follow the seventh book. I hate the seventh book. But yes, we have got the horcruxes, and yes, Voldemort are dead. Things that I mention is alike of course is the same. With that said... In this Voldemort has SEVEN HORCRUXES. No less, and certainly no more. You who can do your math, and know your Potter can probably figure out what that means.  
And further; I understand that you are confused, I can just hope that you'll bear with me. Harry and Draco aren't particularly close to the right track yet. I wanted there to be some confusion, but maybe poor writing has fueled this further than I'd have liked. But solution will come; trust me.

Now I have to study; hope you enjoyed the extra length!

Until next time, everyone!


	12. December 23rd, Wednesday

**Chapter 12**

~DPOV~

Potter slept – for once – peacefully beside him. The Gryffindor's mouth was open, but he thankfully didn't drool on his pillows.

He was lying on his back, staring at the black haired man's – for now – unmoving body, waiting for what he knew was about to come. A sudden twitch in the other man's eyelids told him it was time.

And not a minute later, Potter's back arched and a scream rose from his throat. It wasn't exactly the first time this had happened, so he'd already cast silencing charms over his room.

A second later the Gryffindor went for his throat. That was a new one though. He usually started with the hitting.

The very first time this had happened, he'd been woken up by a fist connecting with his stomach. At first, he'd thought that Potter was awake, then he'd come to the conclusion that he was asleep. It was not until later he understood that the case was neither. Harry had absolutely nothing to do with this.

Potter's lean body rose over him, red eyes staring down at him while the strong hand over his throat slowly cut off his air supply. He got his arm in between himself and Potter's body, bending the hand around his neck loose. He wrestled with the Gryffindor for a brief minute, but Voldemort still had trouble controlling the body. Thankfully. He'd never admit it, but he wasn't _completely _certain that he could defeat Potter without magic.

He sat on the Gryffindor's stomach, pinning down the lean arms on either side of Potter's head.

"I win." he declared, "Again."

Potter's face wrinkled in disgust and utter hatred, an – despite it all – unfamiliar feature on the Gryffindor.

"You filthy blood-traitor," Voldemort hissed in Potter's voice, "You're destroying everything, you..."

He enjoyed hearing the Dark Lord's voice growing fainter and fainter as he leaned closer. As his chest pressed against Potter's he smiled grimly at the once again restful face.

"Bye," he muttered, and rolled off.

He touched his tender neck lightly with his fingertips. He winced at his own touch. Great, he'd have another bruise when he woke up. Another one to cover up. Thank Merlin Potter was so blind, otherwise he'd have noticed him doing the concealing charms already.

Potter's arms suddenly snuck around his waist and before he managed to do anything to prevent it, the Gryffindor's cheek was nuzzled against his chest. His eyes widened a little. There was no reason for Potter to grab him so suddenly; they never slept like this, not with this much contact. A hand on Potter's shoulder at most.

But no one would hear him complain.

Thank Merlin Potter had no perceptive skill what so ever, otherwise the damned green eyed man would have discovered more than his concealed bruises.

He laid his arm around Harry's waist and went to sleep.

Z*z*Z

Harry woke up, feeling more rested than usual. As he slowly regained consciousness he realized that his arms were wrapped tightly around something. Probably the same _something_ that his face was pressed against. He sighed deeply and tried to open his eyes. They fell shut again.

_Merlin, _he couldn't remember the last time he slept this well. _Before_ Voldemort invaded his skull, even.

He rearranged his head, buffing the hair out of his forehead the best he could without his hands.

"Hm..." Malfoy's somewhat hoarse voice came from above his head, "You're a cuddler, Potter? Why am I not surprised?"

His eyes snapped open instantly. What the hell! _Cuddler! _He wasn't cuddling!

In that very moment, warm fingertips dragged along his spine. And suddenly Malfoy's accusation made a lot more sense.

"Malfoy! What the hell are we doing _hugging _each other!" he demand, making an unsuccessful attempt to withdraw from the other man's slight body.

"Don't ask me, you're the one awake..." Malfoy replied in a muffled mumble and yawned.

"Oh, so you're not?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Absolutely not."

The Slytherin's arms gripped tighter around his waist as the blond went back to sleep. It didn't take long for Harry to join him.

*ϟ*ϟ*

Books laid spread out over the floor of Draco Malfoy's bedroom. The blond had chained him to his bedpost and left him alone for ten highly unpleasant minutes to fetch what seemed to be half of the Malfoy library. Now most of them lay haphazardly spread over the carpet, while a few they hadn't touched yet still stood in neat piles along the walls.

Harry shoved his glasses up on his forehead to rub his tired eyes. Merlin, they had been at it since morning, and they hadn't even found the slightest clue yet.

He slammed his book shut and laid down flat on his back.

"Found anything?" he asked, staring at the roof.

"I think so..." Malfoy replied slowly.

"What?" he demanded and snapped upright.

"I don't know..." came the Slytherin's hesitant reply.

He crawled over a pile of books and sat down beside the blond.

"Here," Malfoy said, pointing at a piece in italics, framed with floral patterns in what looked like ancient golden paint. "In the middle, it's a song, I think..." the Slytherin's light finger followed the lines as he read out loud, "_As divided thou shalt not give away thy soul, for thou shalt find that the myrmidon thy seek to fill is long since whole. For the final resting intaglio is thy solitary choice, and hence thy mortal shalt be alone no more. By this thou shalt be protected from all until the first dyad of Agamemnon breaks through..."_

The Slytherin turned towards him with raised eyebrows, as if asking for his opinion.

"Wow..." Harry finally stated, "That must be like the worst song ever... the last part didn't even rhyme..."

"Not the point, Potter," Malfoy pointed out with a roll of his eyes, but he saw the twitch at the corner of the Slytherin's mouth. Harry grinned widely. "And besides, there is more. But still, not the point."

"What is the point, th-...?"

He was interrupted by a loud _POP. _Suddenly a house elf stood in the room, nervously twisting its hands.

Malfoy rose so quickly that he barely understood how he did it.

"You are to tell _no one _of Harry Potter's presence!" the Slytherin demanded before the poor creature even had gotten a word out.

The elf ducked and shielded its face with its unnaturally big hands.

"Ruby will tell no one! No one!" it squealed, "Ruby just came to tell you food, just tell you food!"

"Fine, you have told, now leave," Malfoy snarled.

Harry barely managed to cry out a thank you before the elf was gone.

"And how was _that _necessary?" Harry demanded as Malfoy sat down again. The visit had been so brief that he'd barely been able to process it yet.

"You said it yourself Potter, no one can know you're here," Malfoy pointed out distantly, already back to studying the song.

"I didn't say you should torture that poor creature to keep it that way!" he bust.

"Oh, go join S.P.E.W, why don't you?" Malfoy simply replied, still in his book.

He blushed furiously, but couldn't help but wonder how the Slytherin knew about that. "Shut up." He decided it was better not to ask.

"Now will you listen to what I think it means?" Malfoy asked.

He was tempted to say no, just for the sake of doing so, but the curiosity got the best of him. He simply shifted closer to the blond as an indication for him to start.

"The first part here... do you know what a myrmidon is?"

"Not really, no..." he confessed.

"It's a guard, a keeper..." Malfoy fell silent, waiting for him to understand.

Unfortunately, he didn't. The Slytherin let out a deep sigh and shook his head.

"Seriously, Potter... _The keeper of a soul," _Malfoy explained, emphasizing every word.

Harry's brow furrowed.

"What... Like a horcrux?"

Malfoy was just about to answer when a second _POP _startled them both.

"What!" Malfoy bellowed, turning towards the shaking elf.

"Lord Lucius _really, really _want Mister Draco to come to dinner..." the elf got out.

"And I _said _I was on my way!" Malfoy snarled.

Harry almost thought about pointing out that Malfoy had, in fact, not. But seeing as he was dependent on the other man to survive, he decided not to push his luck. Not at the moment anyhow.

"Ruby just wanted to tell that Lord Lucius is on his way as well!" the house elf squealed.

Harry scrambled to his feet and opened his mouth before Malfoy was able to. Probably the only reason to why he got out something first was that the Slytherin couldn't get anything coherent out in his rage.

"You did very well in telling us, Ruby, now go!"

It didn't seem to matter that he wasn't the elf's real master, because the creature disappeared with a deep bow.

"Potter..." Malfoy growled in a threatening tone.

"You can kill me later," he said, "Now I need to hide before-..."

He was interrupted by the door slamming open.

"Draco Malfoy, first you come home late, then you refuse to tell you mother and me-..." Lucius Malfoy's voice died away as he spotted Harry.

"Lucius," he said coolly, meeting those gray eyes steadily.

The elder Malfoy stared back.

"Well..." Draco said suddenly and stood, making both his and Lucius' eyes snap from their intense stare, to the younger Malfoy, "Father, I guess that this is as a good time as any to tell you that Harry Potter has Voldemort's last Horcrux in his head and that he's now dependent on me to survive."

* * *

Epic cliffhanger FTW!

Until next time, everyone!

And oh, don't get too used to the DPOV; there will only be like two more in the story, I'm afraid... :/


	13. December 23rd

**Chapter 13**

"I want to talk to you, Draco. _Alone," _Lucius said, suppressed fury in his voice.

"Alone with me and Potter, I hope? Golden boy over here can't be very far away from me without going suicidal. _Literally." _Malfoy pointed out.

Lucius' jaw set as he stared at the two of them.

"Surely Mr. Potter can handle standing outside the door for ten minutes?" Lucius finally drawled with a look of disgust on his face.

To Harry's horror he saw Malfoy preparing for a snappy retort. This was not the time to stand up to Lucius, however appreciative he was of the gesture.

"That will be _fine," _he said quickly, and earned a glare from Malfoy.

Apparently Lucius wasn't going to discuss anything further with him in the same room, because the older Malfoy simply turned and strode out through the door. When Draco did so too, he had little choice but to follow.

They walked though a long corridor in silence until Lucius suddenly stopped and opened the door to what looked like an office.

Malfoy met his eyes briefly before going inside.

"Wait there," Lucius said sternly, pointing at a chair a few meters down the hall.

He nodded compliant, not wanting to cause any more trouble.

Lucius slammed the door shut behind him, but he couldn't help but notice that it bounced back a little, leaving a gap barely an inch wide.

He walked a little away from the door, but not all the way to the chair.

He suddenly heard Lucius loud voice demanding _"Explain yourself" _from inside. He took a few steps closer to the room by pure instinct and hoped he was close enough to storm in if something were to go wrong. Which it was likely to do.

He heard the soft hum of Malfoy's voice as he explained, but wasn't able to make out any words.

He managed to keep his curiosity in check for maybe five minutes, congratulated himself for it, inched closer to the door and peaked in through the small gap between the door and the casing.

Malfoy sat leaned back in his usual fashion, with his right foot slung over his knee, casually resting his head on his hand.

Lucius on the other hand sat stiff as a board clearly furious beyond reason. Whatever Malfoy had told him – which probably was the truth – the elder clearly wasn't too happy about it.

Lucius voice was strained with rage as he spoke.

"You have to let him die so that-..."

"So that _what, _father, exactly?" Draco asked, "So that we can go back to being servants? Voldemort will _win _with Harry gone."

Harry could see how Lucius flinched at his son's use of his first name. Heck, he was a little surprised himself, even.

Draco rose so quickly that his chair tipped backwards. The change in temper was so sudden that _Harry_ almost took a step back.

"You want to be a servant in Voldemort's world? Is that what you want? _His _world will lead to nothing but your undoing!"

"Since _when _do you oppose me, Draco Malfoy?" Lucius demanded and rose as well.

"Since I got options! Since I started thinking on my own! _Where _do you think Voldemort's success will lead you? You can't have a whole world enslaved, you wouldn't last a week! Sure, if Harry dies, you can win this war, but then what? There _is_ no end to it! There's only death and murder!"

"So you choose to be a traitor, then? My own _son!"_

"Your own son that is trying to _protect _you!" Malfoy burst.

"If Voldemort were to win, we wouldn't need protection!" Lucius snarled.

"Yes, father, we would! More protection than anyone could ever give us!" Malfoy persisted.

Z*z*Z

Harry Potter had lived all his life under the illusion that short and dramatic was the way to go in the Malfoy family. And maybe it was, arguing with others than amongst themselves. The argument between Lucius and his son, however, had now started on its second hour. And the only thing they ever did was repeat themselves.

Lucius came in with his mindless crap about being free with Voldemort, and the younger Slytherin gave the same answers every time. Eavesdropping at the door had gotten old a long time ago.

Harry had actually tried walking back to Malfoy's room a few times, but found that the hallway was too long. Those seventy steps he'd been able to take back at Hogwarts had decreased at an alarming speed.

Ten minutes later Malfoy finally came out of the door. He scrambled to his feet and met the Slytherin's annoyed eyes.

"You can stay, Potter. Let's get back to our room before father changes his mind,"

Malfoy stomped past him, muttering something about _damn stubborn, narrow-minded fathers_, but he didn't catch all of it. He stared at Malfoy with a strange feeling in his stomach.

_Our room...? _

"Are you coming, or what?" the blonde's harsh tone snapped him out of his trance.

"Yeah, sure, I'm coming," he said and quickly followed.

Malfoy slammed the door shut behind them and picked up the book from before. He stared at the open pages for a moment. Harry watched the Slytherin's eyes travel down the page as he read.

_Our room... _

He felt a strange tingling in his palms at he stared at Malfoy's face, the words repeating themselves in his mind.

He flinched when Malfoy suddenly ripped out the page, the tearing sound it made bringing him back to reality.

"Poor book," he commented, his voice somewhat... strange.

"You've spent too much time with Granger," Malfoy stated with a sideways glance as he snapped the book shut.

"Shut up," he mumbled with a blush.

Malfoy stuffed the piece of paper in his back pocket with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" the Slytherin asked.

"Er... depends on what you mean..." he said hesitantly.

"Honesty, Potter, do you ever listen to what I say?" Malfoy asked.

"Sometimes," he answered with a shrug.

The Slytherin sighed deeply and pulled out the page from his pocket again and sat down on his bed.

"The poem, Potter. You do remember the poem, don't you?"

"I thought you said it was a song?"

"So you do listen from time to time?" Malfoy drawled.

"Yes I remember." He answered stiffly, not wanting to pick a fight. Whatever he'd felt before, it was long gone.

"Well the first part is quite clear..."

"First part?"

Malfoy sighed again. "As divided thou shalt not give away thy soul, for thou shalt find that the myrmidon thy seek fill is long since ?"

"I thought we'd already made it clear that I remembered?"

"Yes, but you keep proving us wrong."

He glared at the Slytherin, but sat down beside him to look at the text. He generously choose to ignore the insult.

"Well, we concluded that I'm some sort of guardian for Voldemort's soul, no?"

"By Merlin, Potter!" Malfoy burst, "That's _exactly _what we concluded you _aren't!" _

He blinked, dumbfounded by Malfoy's words.

"Should I send a fucking howler explaining things to you! The poem says _don't try to stuff you fucking wicked soul into another person because that person is already occupied!_ _Understand? You don't have a horcrux in your head!" _

"I thought it was a song..."

"_Not. The. Fucking. POINT!" _Malfoy roared.

He stared coolly up at the blond, who had rose at some point during his screaming.

"So what do we do then? Try to find something when we have no idea of where to start looking, not to mention that we actually don't even know what we're looking for? It that the plan? All no more than a month!"

"Merlin, I wish I could tell you to sleep on the couch tonight!"

"Oh what a stunningly brilliant reply, oh wise one! If it's to any consolation, I wish so too! I wish that it wasn't you who were the only one who could help me! I wish that I could do something to help myself, to stop _everything_, but the only thing I can do is stick close to you, and I hate it! I hate _you! _I wish I just could get away from _you!_"

He saw the stab of hurt in the Slytherin's eyes before it disappeared behind the wall of molten silver.

"Fuck off, Potter..." Malfoy growled in a low voice as he turned around.

The anger disappeared abruptly as guilt wrenched in Harry's stomach, and he thought that this time maybe he'd gone too far.

* * *

Oops, do we see a little quarrel here...?  
Wherever do you think this will end? ;)

I just have to say something, that is totally beside the point, so if you don't want to read this, just skip. I read a little in the bible today, the old testament and the part about the flood. And I like math so I did some counting. Translated, the numbers give an area of 3151m². But the arc also is 13,4m high; so let say that gives us five floors (and I being a bit generous; it's a boat after all, not a shoebox), which leads to a usable area of 15 755m². Right, that gives us one heck of a boat.  
But then I continued reading. ALL birds, ALL reptiles, AND all... well, mammals I guess (I don't know -mine is in swedish- but there was something about meat and four legs). Do you know how many animals that is? 23 612. But lets say 23 000, just in case my numbers are wrong. (Birds: 9956, Reptiles: 8240, Mammals: 5416) And we need two of each; one male and one female. That's **46 000 **animals. On an area of 15 755m. That gives each animal and area of 0,34m² each. That's 3.65 ft². How... does that work? Did the grizzly stay home while the polar bear got a ride? Did the micro-evolution go that fast after the flood? I saw some numbers on that too; that's 1,3 new species a year.  
I'm just sharing my confusion here, not questioning anything! ;)

Anywho, until next time, everyone!


	14. December 24th

**Chapter 14**

As it turned out, he _had_ gone too far.

The night of a white, sparkly Christmas Eve was upon England, and held promise of a idyllic Christmas day; bright, clear and cold. Malfoy hadn't spoken to him since the night before.

He sat miserably on the Slytherin's bed, staring at the back on named man as he stood on the balcony, leaned against the railing watching the stars.

He didn't know how to approach Malfoy. He seldom ignored Harry with this intensity. If he ever _had_ ignored him before. If he had, Harry certainly hadn't felt the need to break the silence until this time.

He saw how Malfoy's back heaved in a deep sigh.

Crap, he wasn't good at these things. He didn't know what the Slytherin thought about him. He didn't know if Malfoy wanted him to apologize, or let him be, or _anything. _Crap.

He fiddled nervously with the green covers in the bed and then stood, deciding that, well, he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. He pushed the balcony-doors open and walked over to Malfoy, leaning his back against the baluster railing beside the blond.

"Hey..." he said softly.

"Hello..." Malfoy answered quietly, eyes still at the night sky.

Harry looked up as well, tipping his head backwards. They stood like that for a while, as he tried to find the right words to say.

"Malfoy, I..." his voice died away. He felt those grey eyes turn towards him, but he couldn't face them so he continued staring at the sky. "I didn't mean those things I said before, I..."

He took a deep breath and pushed himself from the railing so he stood upright, turning and meeting Malfoy's gaze as steadily as he could muster.

"I'm sorry. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

The Slytherin just stared at him for long moments. Then he looked away again.

"Yeah, well, now you know how I feel." Malfoy drawled sarcastically, but be sounded more tired than malicious.

"What do you mean?" he asked verily, worried that the Slytherin was going to bring up what a useless moron he was.

Malfoy threw him a brief glance.

"Like you said, Potter, _I'm _the only one that can help you. And look what a smashing help I've been." The blond sighed deeply, "You just keep getting worse and worse, all I do is argue with you and, over all, the only thing I _do_ is stick around. Any dickhead could do that."

He stared at Malfoy in amazement. Was he... was he frustrated because he couldn't help him _more...? _For some reason, he got goose-bumps despite the fact that he stood inside the bubble of Malfoy's warming spell.

"It's okay, Malfoy..." he rasped out finally, still strangely... _moved _by the words. "That's more than most in your position would do."

Malfoy gave him a cold look, which didn't do much considering that he knew that it wasn't him the Slytherin was mad at.

"Don't give me that Gryffindor-crap, Potter, it's _nothing." _

"It's a lot!" he persisted, suddenly determinate to make Malfoy feel appreciated. "And it's not all you do, you found that poem, and that book, and..."

"Yeah, I found a book that told us that you're going to die sooner that we thought, that damn fucking _song _that we can only understand half of, and the half that we _can _understand just told us that you don't have a horcrux in your head, which means that we now have to find a new something we don't know what it is or how to destroy. _Bloody fantastic." _

"Yeah, but was does that matter? If you hadn't found out, we still would've been looking for a way to get Voldemort out of my brain without actually blowing my head up. Which probably still wouldn't have worked by the way. _You _found those things and you save my _life _every day you are with me, every hour. You save the _world, _considering what I'd become if I died."

Malfoy looked at him for long moments. He stared back at the Slytherin, transfixed. The blond hair glowed brighter than the stars in the dim moonlight and his grey eyes glittered with the lights of the night. His pale arms – bare thanks to the black t-shirt he wore – and face looked even more so in the moonlight. He looked like some sort of otherworldly winter-prince where he stood at the balcony.

He blinked and swallowed thickly, snapping out of his trance with blushing cheeks

"You're such a wimp, Potter..." Malfoy said, but gave him a brief smile before he turned back to the sky.

He stared at the Slytherin's neck until he became painfully aware of what he was doing. He snapped his eyes to the moon before Malfoy could notice anything.

An idea slowly started to build in his mind as the image of Malfoy's somewhat deflated form played itself over and over in his head. Acting solely on instinct and the need to make the Slytherin feel less useless, he drew his wand. He felt a surprising amount of magic draw from him as he moved his wand, by decided to ignore it.

Seeing as the wordless spell drew no attention from the blond he softly said "Malfoy?"

The grey eyes widened as he turned around and saw the tiny, glittering whirlwind lifting the snow, slowly building a solid form. Malfoy stared at the display as if enchanted himself, but somehow Harry couldn't keep his eyes of the blond.

As the magical wind died away a glistening white dove flexed its wings, causing a sparkling snowstorm in miniature to erupt from them. It opened its beak and emitted a sound like bells of ice. Not that Harry could say that he had heard bells made of ice play anything, but he was sure that _that _was what they would sound like.

Malfoy just stood and stared, silent. As the birds song died away as it shot up in the sky and started making graceful circles in the air above their heads, the silence became awkward. _Very _awkward. He decided to say something.

"A few hundred years ago one supposedly gave those to ask for forgiveness or admit a wrongdoing. The dove shape is supposed to represent peace and the white snow a clean start... I know it isn't much, but it's kind of hard to get you something without you seeing it, and I thought it fit... Please say something?"

He watched Malfoy's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

"Thank you, Potter," Malfoy rasped, "It's beautiful."

He held out his hand, and the dove landed in it, emitting its ice-bell sound again. The dove suddenly was up in the air again, seemingly as surprised as him as Malfoy hugged him tightly for a _very _brief second. With one arm. Over his shoulder, with a manly tap on his back.

But still _Draco Malfoy _was hugging _Harry Potter _by own free will. Harry thought that he ought to take cover, just in case.

"You're welcome," he managed with only a slight stutter as Malfoy released him. "I were meaning to give that to you tomorrow, but..." He realized that he really didn't have an explanation to why he had given the blond the dove a day early.

Malfoy stared at him with emotion that he couldn't read for the life of him.

"I've got something for you too," Malfoy said suddenly and begun searching his back pockets for, probably, that something.

His eyebrows shot up in his hair. "What?" he asked in confusion; he hadn't expected anything _back,_. "You didn't need to get me anything," he protested, "It was just snow shaped by a spell."

Malfoy looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, it's just snow shaped by a ridiculously advanced spell from the fourteenth century that no one have been able to perform in a few decades," the Slytherin said in a dry voice.

"Oh..." he managed.

He figured that was why Hermione had laughed when he'd said that he wanted to try the spell sometime as she showed it to him in the book she'd found.

"Here," Malfoy suddenly said.

The blond lifted his hand from his left front pocket, a long silver chain followed, hooked on his finger. It was so thin that it almost looked like a thread. Without really thinking, he took a step forward and took it in his hand.

"It's beautiful..." he mumbled.

"Yes, Potter, beautiful..." There was a softness in Malfoy's voice that made him look up. He found the Slytherin staring at him. The grey eyes turned away so quickly that he was wondering if he was imagining things.

"It also is pure silver, which supposedly helps with possession and this..." Malfoy said and lifted a small glass vial he hadn't even noticed and placed it in his hand. "Is my blood, which helps with _your _possession. And both are spelled not to break."

He stared at the necklace in wonder as Malfoy handed it all over and stepped away a little.

"When... how could you get this without me noticing?"

"You sleep like a drugged warthog, Potter." Malfoy said with a grin. Harry must've imagined the fondness in his voice. "And I had the chain already, I used to wear it all the time when I was a kid, despite it almost reaching my knees."

He was too captivated by the jewelry too look up, but got a strange feeling in his stomach thinking about how Malfoy had worn it before him. And apparently liked it too.

He hung the thin silver chain around his neck carefully, and lifted the small vial with shimmering ruby liquid. Despite the fact that the amulets purpose was to allow them further apart he felt strangely close to Malfoy.

"Thank you," he mumbled softly.

* * *

Ah... not too much action in this one, but a little cuteness at least, no? ;)

Hope everyone still enjoys!

Until next time, everyone!

Oh! While I remember! I don't know if I have any Russian readers here but if I do, and you like my story, I've got a tip for you! ;) You see, there is this wonderful woman named Juliana Diamond who has translated some of my stories to just Russian, and I swear; they get better after she has laid her hands on them! Here's a link, which of course should be used without spaces; http: / / hpfanfiction . potterforum . ru/viewtopic . php?id=2559#p50431  
Feel free to follow it even if you can't read Russian; there's a very pretty picture from the story there! :D

So, here I go again; until next time, everyone!


	15. December 25th, Friday

**Chapter 15**

"Seriously, Malfoy, are you _moving in _into that damned shower?" he growled impatiently. He had taken a shower of his own just before the blond, but his had lasted no more than ten minutes, mind you.

"Relax, Potter, I've only been in here like fifteen minutes..." Malfoy's muffled voice came from behind the frosted glass.

"_Twenty-five," _he corrected, "What are you doing in there anyway? What can you do in a _shower _for that long? Shampoo and soap, what else is there?"

"Conditioner, Potter, conditioner. And relaxation, with I can't practice in here with your whining all the time, so I'm going to cast a spell so I don't have to listen to you anymore. Bye,"

He saw the shimmer over the glass as confirmation of that Malfoy had gone through with his threat.

He sighed deeply. _Twenty-five minutes. _Didn't Malfoy remember that he couldn't _go _anywhere during all that time? Not that he really wanted to, seeing as a large Christmas tree complete with an absurd amount of presents had appeared overnight in their bedroom. The damned spruce stood in all its glittering glory like a beacon, reminding him how much he didn't belong here, how far away he was from his friends. How much his presence was forced onto Malfoy.

At least he couldn't see it from here.

Suddenly it felt like a small explosion went off in his head. It drew a scream from his throat and brought him to his knees when another followed, just as powerful. He fell in a heap on the floor and buried his face in his hands as he tried to will it to go away. He was prepared for the next one, feeling to power draw together in his head, knowing that he could do nothing about it. A wimpier strangely alike the Slytherin's name escaped his lips as the surge shot through him, short—circulating everything with excruciating pain.

"_Malfoy!_" was all he got out, knowing that no one could hear, before everything finally went black.

Z*z*Z

He woke by the feeling of goose-bumps spreading over his skin, caused by the cold tile his back was pressed against. He pressed his eyelids tighter together and moaned, not liking being awake again one bit.

"Potter?" a soft voice asked above him.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the surroundings. He was laying on the floor, just beside the shower. The frosted glass that should have surrounded it lay in shards all over the floor, a few stuck in his back too, if he could trust his own body. The pipes in the shower was bent and leaking. The showerhead itself was also broken, spraying water haphazardly over the room.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked in the same soft voice as if worried that he was going to attack if he made a to sudden sound.

"I think so... what happened?" he asked, his eyes at the destruction.

"You attacked; Voldemort possessed you. I don't really know how, I thought it only could happen when you were asleep..."

"This has happened before...?" he asked hoarsely, wondering why he couldn't remember any of it. But then again, he couldn't remember what had happened now either.

"No."

Unwilling and too exhausted to press further in the matter of Malfoy's obvious lying at the moment he let it slide. There was more pressing matters right now. Like that he thought he could feel glass piercing the skin on his back. He tried to shift a little, but found himself pinned down. He turned his head – hearing the glass grit under him as he did so – and saw Malfoy holding a firm grip on his wrist.

He stared up at the blond in confusion as he took in the situation that somehow, _somehow,_ had managed to elude him previously.

A very naked and very wet Malfoy was straddling him, his slender calves somehow wrapped around his legs, keeping them down.

The splitting headache thankfully stopped his shame.

"After you blew up my shower with that curse I couldn't just stand by..." Malfoy said with a shrug.

"Which curses?" he demanded, suddenly alert. "And don't lie, I'm going to check it later anyway."

Malfoy hesitated for a minute still hovering over him.

"Killing Curse. You... _Voldemort _had to try a few times to get it right, seems like you-_you _doesn't really want to kill me, but he finally got it right. Thank Merlin that your aim is worse than Longbottom's, otherwise it would be me and not my shower that was dead right now,"

Malfoy rose with a grace and ease that didn't belong with a naked man that just had pinned another man down to the floor, and conjured a towel which he wrapped around his waist.

Malfoy gave him his hand. "Come here, Potter, I suspect I have to pluck a few pieces of glass from your back now."

*ϟ*ϟ*

"Ouch, be gentle..." he growled and flinched as the Slytherin pulled another shard from his back. Thankfully, most of them was small enough not to do any serious damage. But that also meant that they were quite hard to get out.

"That's the last one," Malfoy said, _finally. _

Suddenly Malfoy's hand was pressed against his mouth, pulling him close in an almost-embrace.

"I'm so sorry," the blond mumbled just by his ear. The apology was quickly followed by a whispered spell.

His back arched, his eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips as it felt like a thousand needles pierced his back.

Malfoy let him go and he sagged together with a shaky breath.

"Sorry about that, but there was a lot of tiny shards left that I couldn't get out any other way," Malfoy said, but didn't sound too sorry.

"It's alright," he mumbled and hissed a little when Malfoy begun healing his back.

He stiffened when a warm and slightly wet towel touched his shoulder blades, wiping away the blood.

_Does that mean that Malfoy is naked again...? _

He swallowed thickly and forced himself not to turn around and look.

"That should be good enough," Malfoy said suddenly, and climbed off the bed.

His jaw set as he promptly continued to stare in another direction until he heard Malfoy pull some clothes on.

"I think you should sit still for a few minutes while the healing-spell sets, I'm going to fix the shower, I'll be right back."

Malfoy disappeared before he got a chance to protest. He would never admit it, but after the little nearly-killed-Malfoy-incident just now he would've preferred not to be left alone.

Thankfully the blond returned soon enough.

"Well, I'm pleased to say that I don't need to charge you for a new shower. Now we need to decide what you're going to wear, Potter. Even if your shirt hadn't been torn to pieces, I don't think it would've been appropriate this time." Malfoy said as he bent down to pick up his torn shirt. He looked at it with a frown and then threw it aside.

"What's wrong with my shirt? And why do we need to decide what I have to wear?" he wanted to know.

"Haven't I told you? Why did you think I showered for so long?"

"To torture me?" he suggested.

"Good idea, but no. Every year my mother and father holds a Yule Ball here at the manor."

"Oh... and when is that?"

"Eight o'clock tonight." The Slytherin answered with ease. "You should have eavesdropped a little more to me and my father, Potter, we talked about it."

"Tonight! How are we going to solve that! You can't leave me up here!"

Malfoy gave him a look over his shoulder while opening his closet.

"I just said that, Potter, you are coming with me."


	16. December 25th

**Chapter 16**

"Malfoy, I seriously hope that youaren't serious," he said, pacing back and forth in the room.

"Of course I'm serious, what else could we do? You said it yourself, I can't leave you up here, you would kill yourself in a second, and I can't hide up here with you, I haven't missed that ball a single year since I was born. It would certainly cause suspicion not to go this year without any apparent reason." Malfoy said, still flipping through the garments in his closet.

"And it would _confirm _the suspicions if I were to go down there!" he protested.

"First of all, Potter," Malfoy started, "you _are _going down there. Secondly, not as yourself, you aren't,"

He stared at Malfoy in disbelief. Who would _not_ recognize Harry Potter if he walked in into their living room? If these people didn't, Voldemort should seriously consider getting smarter Death Eaters for his epic comeback.

"Malfoy, not you, nor I, can perform a feature-changing spell that last that long." He pointed out, going for reasonable.

"Of course we can't, Potter, such isn't even invented. But we can take of your glasses and conceal your scar and dress you in real clothes and I promise that no one will recognize you." Malfoy explained, sounding far more reasonable talking nonsense than Harry had done stating facts.

"I can't _see_ without my glasses." He pointed out sourly_. _"Wait, _real _clothes? What do you mean by that?"

"Absolutely nothing, Potter. I know you can't see without your glasses, that's why we're going to cast a sight-improving-spell."

"Does those exist?" he asked, surprised and a little offended that no one had told him.

"Of course they do, how do you think normal quidditch players get through?" Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Contacts?" he suggested.

Malfoy looked at him like he was mental.

"I'm not even going to pretend that I know what that is." The Slytherin stated, "But don't get your hopes up, Potter, it only lasts for a few hours,"

Instead of replying he took a look at the clock by the far wall. His brow furrowed as he took in the time.

"Malfoy?" he said and looked back to the Slytherin, who now was holding out something suspiciously green with a pleased smile.

"Yes?"  
"I hope you know that the clock says the time is five minutes past eight."

"Of course it does, it's true."

"Then we are late."

"Of course we are."

"Then we're going to draw a lot of unnecessary attention to ourselves." He pointed out.

"There is no such thing as unnecessary attention, Potter. Try this on." Malfoy demanded.

"We are going to make quite an un-subtle entrance..." he said and picked up the clothing, "This is very green."

"That word doesn't exist, Potter, and of course its green, you have to look Slytherin. And besides, it will go fabulously with your eyes," Malfoy persisted, already back at flipping through garments, probably for himself this time.

"Did you just said that his will go fabulously with my _eyes_?" he asked, laughter in his voice, "That must be the gayest sentence I've heard in all my life."

Malfoy didn't even throw a glance his way.

"Yet another proof of your lesser education and maturity," the blond simply stated and pulled out a dark grey garment from his wardrobe. He blushed, feeling incredibly childish for pointing out the potential homosexuality in Malfoy's words.

"Put it on now," Malfoy urged, "I have to see how it looks on. You must look like you _belong _with me, not like you stumbled in here by chance, otherwise people are going to start ask questions."

He didn't protest, but simply began unbuttoning his jeans, seeing as his shirt was still off since Malfoy had plucked those pieces of glass out of his back. After all, who could know the wicked ways of the Malfoy relatives better than a wicked Malfoy?

"Seriously, Potter, have you ever even heard the _word _modesty?"

He couldn't resist.

"Yeah, you keep saying it, but I haven't really gotten what it means yet..."

Z*z*Z

"I feel naked, Malfoy," he mumbled in the Slytherins ear, leaning closer, as they walked down a flight of stairs he had never seen before.

"If it makes you feel any better, Potter, I can ensure you that you are indeed fully clothed," Malfoy answered in a dry voice.

"I meant without my _glasses_, you prat!" he hissed.

Malfoy didn't answer; instead he put on his usual ice-mask of nothingness. At first he thought it was because the Slytherin had been annoyed by his insult, but just as he opened his mouth to apologize they rounded the corner.

Christmas had never been a big event in his life, so when Malfoy had said _Yule Ball_ an image of a small gathering of only (but yet horrifying) Malfoy relatives had popped up in his head. And maybe it was only relatives to the blond beside him in the huge crowd in front of him, but if that was the case, Malfoy had a whole lot of relatives. There had to be at least eighty people in the room, most of them – but not all – staring up at them.

He drove an elbow in the Slytherin's ribs. "_Malfoy," _he hissed in a mixture of panic and anger.

"You have to call me Draco from now on," Malfoy simply replied and went to greet a witch with long black hair coming towards them.

"Draco..." she said, and leaned forward to place a peck on each of his cheeks. The whole gesture looked strangely forced.

"Margret," Draco said, and faked his pleasantness far better than the old lady. He was certain it was a _perfect _Malfoy voice; _I'm-glad-to-be-here-pleased-to-meet-you-but-I'm-not-too-interested-and-I'd-rather-be-somewhere-else. _

"And who is this young man?" she said with a nod in his direction. He only barely managed to keep in a disgusted face when he saw how her eyes appreciatively traveled over his green clad body. His blond safe-keeper had said that he looked _"good enough," _Harry himself thought that he looked all too much like a Slytherin in the forest green robes that clung to his torso and shoulders like a second skin. The Slytherin had no doubt picked the outfit he knew would make Harry feel the most uncomfortable.

He shrugged off the thoughts and descended the two steps that separated him and the woman that apparently was called Margret, and took her hand. He had faced Voldemort; surely he could charm Malfoy's creepy relatives beyond leery questions. He brushed her knuckles with his lips and gave back her hand, feeling the need to spit (preferably on her).

"I'm Ha-"

"He's Harvey Gudgeon," Malfoy quickly filled in, and Harry was so amused by the fact that Malfoy had "named" him after the seeker in the Chudley Cannons that he almost didn't hear what came out of the Slytherin's mouth next. "He's my boyfriend."

He couldn't help it. He gave Malfoy a look of complete horrification.

"Oh don't be a prude, love, I told you I wouldn't keep you a secret much longer," Malfoy said with a shrug.

He stared from Margret to Malfoy. The older woman's face had turned from appreciative to slightly... _disturbed. _

"Excuse me," he got out before he grabbed Malfoy by the arm and dragged him away to a somewhat shielded corner.

"Why did you say you were my _boyfriend!_" he hissed in Malfoy's ear. It felt like he did that a lot lately.

"Smile when you talk to me, Potter, we need to sell this, otherwise they are going to start asking questions." Malfoy banned, but with a small smile on his face, most likely for the cover. "I had to tell them that we were involved, otherwise someone might have asked either you or me to dance. We can't afford to say no to everyone."

"But forcing me to say yes is okay?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, this isn't even real. I'm sure you can stand me for one night."

Suddenly he spotted Margret, still standing by the stairs, staring at them with a suspicious frown.

He quickly wiped his dismay off with a smile and turned to peck _Draco _on the cheek.

"I am going to kill you for this," he said with the sweetest smile he could muster.

Malfoy stared at him for a moment with open mouth and wide eyes, than he quickly turned away.


	17. December, 25th

**Chapter 17**

_DPOV ~_

Draco sat stiff as a board by the dining-table. Probably no one could tell the difference from his usual posture, though. Well, except for Potter, that was, seeing as the Gryffindor gave him odd looks every now and then.

Merlin, Potter was going to be the death of him someday.

He had already decided that boyfriend was the best cover on Christmas Eve, and had therefore dressed Potter accordingly. Everyone would expect Draco to have an at least moderately _Slytherin_ boyfriend. The Golden Boy of course was Gryffindor to the heart (even though Draco had begun to suspect that Potter's mind could work in Slytherin ways at selected times), so the only thing he could change was appearances. Glasses off and Potter looked like a different person at first sight, that was something he had learned watching the Gryffindor sleep. Concealing the scar was obvious and a complete necessity. Draco's green robes had been the natural choice once he remembered that he owned them, standing in clear contrast to the worn jeans and too large t-shirts Potter usually attired himself in. A few harsh spells on his raven hair and Potter was a changed man.

To anyone that didn't know him, that was. And unfortunately, Draco could no longer count himself to one of those who didn't. He could still see Potter behind the attire. The jet-black hair was considerably more obedient than usual, just a small organized mess with a few forelocks in front of Potter's bare face. But his mouth still curved in the same way when he smiled, carving small wrinkles by the edges of his eyes and causing him to squint just a little. He was still sticking out his tongue to wet his lower lip, biting at the right side of it, just like he always did whenever he was nervous. His forefinger was still playing with the torn nail bed on his left thumb. And his green eyes were exactly the same.

The robes Draco had chosen were from the previous year, and were a bit short for him by now, but he had thought that as Potter was a few inches shorter than him it wouldn't matter. He was wrong. The length fitted, but the garment had been tailored for _Draco_, and he was considerably leaner than Potter. The garment was made with the intention to fit somewhat loosely around shoulders, chest and waist and then continue to the floor with a simple cut, splitting the front in half. On Potter the robes clung to his every curve, hugging toned chest and shoulders to continue upwards to end with just a little curve up towards his chin.

_Merlin have mercy... _

"How long do we have to stay here?" Potter whispered in his ear, looking around anxiously.

Draco jumped at the sudden nearness from the other man.

"We haven't even had dessert yet, Potter," Draco growled back. "But I'm sure we can withdraw a bit early under the cover of _other activities_," he said in the most teasing voice he could muster, but he was afraid that his words affected himself more than anyone else.

Potter blushed scarlet and sat back in his chair, leaning away from him. In that very moment, the dessert, presented in high glasses, popped up in front of them.

HPOV ~

Harry had absolutely no idea what he was eating, but it tasted like heaven. Unfortunately it was over all too quickly.

He put the long spoon back in the glass and sighed deeply with a frown. Couldn't he have gotten a bowl of that stuff?

He suddenly spotted Malfoy's. Only two spoons of the white fluff were missing; one still resting on the Slytherin's long dining utility. It seemed as though the spoon had never quite reached Malfoy's mouth, which was hanging open for some reason.

"Are you going to eat that?" Harry asked with longing in his voice.

Malfoy didn't answer, but promptly put the spoon back in the dessert and shoved the tall glass over to him. Harry thanked Malfoy with a wide smile and stuffed a spoonful in his mouth. It tasted faintly of something that probably was Malfoy, but at the moment he didn't care. He had gotten more of this pure _bliss. _

*ϟ*ϟ*

Bliss long gone, Harry was suffering from a Voldemort-induced headache. He had just bidden goodbye to a witch who had bored him with pure-blood crap for the past fifteen minutes. He must have looked somewhat unapproachable with his brow furrowed like it was now, because no one had made a move to talk to him again since she left, even though he saw people sending curious looks his way.

A sudden surge of pain forced his eyelids shut. Crap, he had absolutely no idea where Malfoy was.

Suddenly a pair of hands rested on his hips and he was pulled close to a warm body. The headache disappeared instantly.

"Draco," he greeted him, taking their cover into consideration.

Harry was somewhat troubled by the fact that the headache hadn't disappeared or even abated until Malfoy actually touched him, but he quickly shoved the thought away.

"We have to dance," Malfoy mumbled in his ear.

He suddenly realised how close they stood to each other. Malfoy's chin rested loosely on his shoulder, his chest was pressed to his back and his groin was placed firmly against Harry's ass.

An image from the morning conjured itself in his mind, an image of a naked Draco Malfoy pinning him down to the floor. He was left strangely lightheaded.

"What?" Harry asked in a slightly breathy voice.

It was a completely natural position for two lovers. Which they weren't. Was. Right now, anyway.

"We have to dance," Malfoy repeated. "They have been asking me a lot these past minutes and I had to say I promised you this one."

"What! But I can't dance!"

"Doesn't matter, Potter, I'll lead,"

"What?" Harry asked sharply. Again.

"I'm taller than you; it would look ridiculous if you were the one to lead," Malfoy stated in a reasonable voice.

"But I'm more masculine than you, Malfoy!" he protested.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as if to say _yeah, live under that illusion Potter,_ but to his surprise he didn't protest vocally.

"Be that as it may, but you still can't dance." With that, Malfoy placed his hand on Harry's hip, took his hand and dragged him out on the dance floor.

Harry figured that he'd rather follow than make them both look like fools. Which wouldn't be good since dancing probably was something pure-bloods were expected to be good at. Thank Merlin Ron wasn't their kind of pure-blood.

"How are you feeling?" Malfoyasked in his ear.

Malfoy moved them around which such a grace that even Harry seemed to acquire some.

"Potter, how are you feeling?" Malfoy repeated.

"A little weird," Harry admitted, telling the truth even though he didn't take Malfoy's strange closeness into consideration.

"I saw you had a headache before...?" the blonde hair tickled his cheek as Malfoy spoke in his ear.

"Yeah, Voldemort was poking around a bit," he mumbled, not wording his concern about that the pain hadn't gone away until Malfoy actually touched him.

"It shouldn't have happened," Draco said and shook his head slightly.

"Nothing of this _should _happen, Malfoy," he said with a sigh.

"I mean that it literally shouldn't have happened; I was standing no more than fifteen feet from you. It shouldn't be possible for him to do that to you. Not yet. First this morning, and now this - something is happening."

A light kiss suddenly landed just by his left eye, and dwelt there for a moment.

He understood why when Malfoy spun them around and he caught Margret's suspicious glare before she turned away. Still, it was strangely comforting.

"We have had dessert and danced," Malfoy said, "let's not push our luck any longer; there's only a matter of time until people will start asking questions and you need to sleep."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry agreed, trying not to think about what the other guests must assume they were up to when they left.

"There's no way you are more masculine than me Potter," Malfoy's soft voice mumbled in his ear before he withdrew slightly, without ceasing their movement. "Come now, let's go to bed."

Harry met Malfoy's grey eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

Malfoy slowed their dance, bowed with Harry's hand still in his, and pressed his warm lips against his knuckles.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

* * *

We'll soon be back on plot, I promise! ;)

Thank you so much everyone for the wonderful reviews! They make my day!

Until next time, everyone!


	18. Dawn of December 26th

**Chapter 18**

Harry woke feeling very strange. The sounds seemed to fight to reach his ears, and his tactility seemed oddly numb. He felt like he was standing; it even felt like he was _walking. _

He could vaguely remember Malfoy almost carrying him up the stairs because he had been so tired. He also remembered his head connecting with the soft pillow and falling asleep right after, so how could he be standing?

"_Potter..." _he vaguely recognised Malfoy's voice as it reached him through the strange blur. "_Potter..." _

He felt like yawning, but his jaws wouldn't move. The palm of his right hand was pulsating slightly, like a pain that had almost ebbed away. And it felt like he was _holding _something.

"_Potter, you need to stop right now..." _

Harry had no idea what Malfoy was talking about. He wasn't doing anything, was he? He decided that the best way to find out was simply to open his eyes. Strangely enough, he found that he couldn't. Though it felt like they were open, he couldn't see anything. And when he tried to mouth his concern, he found himself unable to speak.

Something was _very _wrong.

He felt a hand on his arm. _"Harry, do you hear me? I'm here; you need to stop this." _

Something was very, _very _wrong.

"Don't touch me, you filthy blood traitor!" Harry snarled, hearing his own voice leaving his mouth, but Voldemort's inside his head.

As if Voldemort was only able to handle so many things at once, Harry's vision suddenly returned, proving that his eyes were indeed open.

Harry stared down at a, painfully clearly, scared Malfoy, laying partly on his back in their shared bed, supporting himself on an elbow, Harry's own hand with a bloody shard of glass raised over him. Their eyes met for a second, and he saw how Malfoy's expression changed from fright to determination. Then the world went black again.

The glass-shard in Harry's hand cut through his skin and he felt his own hot blood slowly trickle out, making his grip on the weapon even slipperier. Harry realised with a small sense of relief that the blood he had seen was his own; he hadn't hurt Malfoy – yet.

His vision was like a broken film, only showing fractions of the very real scene playing out in front of him. He wasn't even completely certain of what he was seeing was something that actually was happening right there and then. But he could still feel the pain and hear the sounds, so that must have been the case.

He felt blood dripping on his feet and suddenly saw Draco scramble up from the bed, quickly backing away, pressing his back to the wall.

"Harry, listen to me..." Malfoy began.

"Shut up, you useless traitor," Harry hissed in a terrible, distorted version of his own voice, "Your father was one of my most loyal servants, and now you have betrayed me. Both of you have. Without you, Harry Potter would have been dead a long time ago."

Harry tried in vain to get out a warning between Voldemort's firmly sealed lips, his _own _lips. He could _see_ what the man was planning in front of his otherwise blackened-out eyes.

"But not to worry," Harry felt a twisted grin lift his lips, "when you are gone, my victory will be easy. You see, Potter's only hope is you."

He took a firmer grip on the glass-shard and held it out like a knife towards Malfoy. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks almost as fast as the blood dripped from his hand. Empty tears, as if his body was trying to rinse the Dark Lord out from itself. Because he couldn't just let himself kill Malfoy. He couldn't, his whole body was screaming this. But he didn't know what he _could _do to stop it either. The tears certainly weren't working.

"Harry, listen to me. I'm here, you can push him aw-..."

"Shut up!" Harry growled and stepped closer to the Slytherin, leaving but inches between them. The grin slipped back on his lips as fast as it had disappeared at his outburst.

As if someone had turned on the lights, he vision suddenly came back again. Harry was merely an inch form Malfoy's face, staring straight into his eyes. His gaze flicked down to the Slytherin's bared torso, he dragged the pointed glass back and forth over the pale skin, just above his heart, obviously toying with the other man.

_Voldemort knows that he'll win, _he realised.

"_Indeed I do," _said such a cheerful voice in his head that he almost didn't recognise it. His vision cleared further as Voldemort pressed the piece of glass in his hand against Malfoy's skin, finally drawing blood.

As the blood drops rolled down the pale, bare torso he realised something; Voldemort was toying as much with Harry as he was with Malfoy.

This was not good.

All Harry could do was stare as the piece of glass went deeper into Malfoy's flesh, below his collarbone. A steady trickle of blood seeped out of the wound, causing a steady stream to run from the slit.

It must have hurt terribly, but Harry could read more determination than pain in Malfoy's features. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't figure out what.

It didn't matter, he decided, he needed to do something _now. _Not knowing what else he could possibly do, he tried to _will _himself back in control, but it seemed like nothing was happening.

"Harry, please..." Malfoy got out, merely a whimper. And suddenly Harry's hand began to shake violently. Seeing how the shaking tore up Malfoy even further he snatched his hand away with little effort.

To his horror he saw that the piece of glass stuck in Malfoy as he let it go, just hanging there for long seconds before it slowly slid out and dropped to the ground.

He could feel, rather than hear, Voldemort roar in dismay inside of him, and felt how the Dark Lord renewed his desperate struggle for control.

"_Think of what will happen if you let him take it!" _Something inside of him ordered. So Harry did. He thought of all the people that would die if he let Voldemort loose, of what would happen to the world. But for some reason was what affected him the most was Malfoy. He had seen what Voldemort had planned; Malfoy's lifeless body lying on the floor, empty eyes staring at nothing. Blood all over his now even paler torso. He would never move again. He would never speak again. And all because of the wounds _Harry's _hands had inflicted on him.

That _couldn't _happen. He wouldn't _let it _happen.

_Something _inside of him – Voldemort, Harry himself or just pure instinct, he didn't know – made his hand shoot forward. He pressed it against Malfoy's chest, over the place he knew the Slytherin's heart was located, smearing blood all over.

And suddenly Voldemort was gone. Exhausted beyond reason, Harry slumped to the ground. He felt strangely empty inside, as if Voldemort had left an empty void inside of him. He knew that it wasn't permanent – he could feel that – but it was still somewhat terrifying.

"_Is this the way I'm going to feel when Voldemort is gone completely?" _

Malfoy dropped to his knees in front of him. One hand covered the wound in his shoulder, the other one he placed under Harry's chin, lifting his face.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy asked in a grim voice.

He wanted to scream. Harry had almost _killed _him, damn it! _Why _wasn't he angry! How the _hell _could he _not _be angry?

But he didn't scream. He didn't want to fight. Not right now. They could deal with Malfoy's lack of proper emotions later. Right now he could only do the next best thing.

"Why didn't you run?" he asked quietly.

"I can't run." Malfoy said. "I need to stay close to you, otherwise Voldemort gets even more access to your head."

Malfoy's hand dragged briefly over his hair as he stood, almost as if it had just been an accident. "I can never run from you."

* * *

The sweet cozyness just about ended in this chapter, didn't it?

Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

Until next time everyone!


	19. December 26th

**Chapter 19**

"It seems you went into the bathroom, endowing yourself with a fitting – though I have to say rather unsophisticated – weapon by breaking my mirror," Malfoy explained as he came out of said room, wiping blood off his hands on a small towel. The wound in his shoulder was healed. "This is the second time he has destroyed something in there. It almost makes one wonder if Voldemort had something against my bathroom in his past life..." Malfoy threw the white cloth aside, and the towel dissolved in mid-air.

Harry wondered briefly if Malfoy was simply a show-off, or if he really would die if he spent a day in the muggle world.

"But all kidding aside, it's good that he went for the mirror; that means that he still can't use magic."

"Yeah, great, now I only _almost _cut off your head," Harry drawled and rolled his eyes.

"As long as it stays on by its own accord, you won't hear me complain." Malfoy sat down beside him on the bed. "On closer thought I probably wouldn't speak much if it left my shoulders, either."

"You don't say..." Harry mumbled sourly, looking away.

Malfoy apparently decided than the best way to handle this was by ignoring Harry.

"Until we know what that was, and how likely it is that it'll happen again, I don't want you more than fifteen feet away from me," Malfoy declared

"You don't _want _me further away?" Harry asked in surprise, turning back to the Slytherin.

Malfoy gave him a look. "I rather fancy being alive, and I promise you; Granger's elaborate explication made it very clear to me that if you came back _dead, _so would I. Though my corpse probably would be in a far worse state than yours. _Yes, _Potter, I _want _you that close."

"But you just went further away from me than that by yourself," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but I don't think that Voldemort is really fit for fight ri-..." Malfoy's voice died away as his brow furrowed. "How did you know that you cut me? I only mentioned a weapon, never that you used it. And why would you think that there was a reason for me to run from you?"

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Are you daft, Malfoy? I was _there." _

Malfoy stared at him for a long time, as if he couldn't quite take in what Harry had just said. He could actually _see_ realisation dawn in Malfoy's face.

"You were awake!"

"Of course I-...!" Harry stopped himself. "Wait, I have done this when I _wasn't _awake!" It seemed like he should have pressed on further yesterday in the shower, after all.

Malfoy pressed his lips tightly together, as if he didn't want to say anything. He conjured another one of those towels of his and sat down on the bed beside Harry. To his surprise, Malfoy lifted the moist towel to his right cheek and begun to wipe away something.

"You have blood on your face," Malfoy explained shortly and showed him the – now red – towel as proof.

A little embarrassed he took the piece of cloth from Malfoy's hand and rubbed it against his cheek himself while waiting for Malfoy to formulate an answer.

"Yes you have. You have done this before; you do this almost every night in your sleep. Though you aren't as strong; I usually just wrestle you away and wait for it to pass. But when I tried this time, I couldn't..."

Harry figured that was probably what Malfoy had been doing when he'd snarled at him not to touch him.

"This time and yesterday was very different from all the others. Yesterday he took you over when you were awake. When he has to take you from your sleep, I'd guess it's hard enough to get your body moving when it's supposed to be asleep. When you're awake though, he only needs to grab the handles, not turn you on, if you get what I mean... That'swhy he could use magic in the bathroom. It was on and present already, he didn't need to take it, not like he does when he takes you from your sleep. But I'd say it's only a matter of time before he can do that too.

"But what I find the most disturbing is that I think that this was a build-up. I think that he somehow gathered energy to execute this, and that's why yesterday happened and why you had a headache and were so tired at the Yule Ball. And that means that Voldemort thought that he could do something with this. He actually thought that he could win."

"_I know he did..." _Harry thought to himself.

They sat in silence as the minutes passed, both staring blankly ahead of them.

"We need to speed up on this. We thought we had a month, but this... it's going too fast. If he keeps at it at this pace, I don't think we have more than three weeks at most, maybe even as little as two."

Harry stared at Malfoy in horror. _Two _weeks. That was-... so _soon. _All too soon. That was _half _of the time they had expected. Counted on. How could they do this in _two weeks? _They didn't know what they were looking for; they didn't know how to handle anything they might find. By Merlin, they didn't even know where to look!

But how on earth could they fail? How could they let that happen?

Harry buried his face in his hands. Let _what _happen exactly? _What _would happen, should they fail? Would Voldemort kill him in order to take over his body, or would he just conquer him from inside his head? Would he kill _Malfoy? _

All they had was questions. For every step they took, closer to a solution, more questions dawned. So many questions it was impossible to see if they had walked the right way to start with. Let alone in what direction the next step should be in.

He turned his hands to fists, almost convulsively, feeling the urge to bang his head against something in frustration.

To his surprise he suddenly felt Malfoy's arm around his waist.

"Quit being so melodramatic, Potter, we're going to figure this out." Malfoy said, in a surprisingly kind tone of voice.

Though Harry at the moment doubted it, and just wanted to scream at Malfoy's face that no, they were _not _because this was fucking impossible, he appreciated that the Slytherin actually had tried to cheer him up.

Not only to distract himself, he asked, straightening up and removing his hands from his face, "Malfoy, why did you keep saying my name if you thought I wasn't in there."

Malfoy turned to meet his eyes. "I didn't know what else to do." Then he turned away again and opened the doors to his closet.

"Come on now, Potter, get some clothes on." The serious tone in Malfoy's voice was long gone, replaced by something grim. "We need to work at this lack-of-modesty-thing of yours as much as we need to find out what Voldemort is doing inside of your head. Both as soon as possible, otherwise I don't know which of us who'll go insane first."

* * *

A/N: I'm sensing a certain bit of impatience (and not only because I've skipped two days; sorry about that, I've been away with no internet). Maybe I'm reading too much into them, but it feels like most comments are basically saying _OH MY GOD WOMMAN, GET TO THE POINT ALREADY. _In a polite, wonderful and absolutely fantastic way, of course. (I love you!)

I'm writing this to say two things. One: pleasedon'tkillme! (Or stop reading, which is the same thing really.)

Two: Er... I've forgotten what that was... er... hm... *long pause* hm... Well, I guess it was: we'll get there.  
Eep! My background just changed to a wonderful shot of Ezio Additori – can't spell that – from Assassin's Creed II. I _adore _that pic!

Anyway, sidetracking aside. I have a trail of breadcrumbs, the spaces between them might be big at times – and I hope I don't lose you – but eventually, I promise you, you will stand with the whole loaf in your hand.  
That wasn't what I was going to say, but I forgot what it was, so you'll just have to stick with that for now. I'll tell you if I remember the real message!

Anyway; until next time, everyone!


	20. December 27th, Sunday

**Chapter 20**

Harry woke by something hard hitting his stomach. Square. Hard, heavy and square. Though he figured that Malfoy had probably brought a book for him to look at and that he should be excited and grateful that the blond was helping so much, it wasn't really news. Or actually, maybe it was, but Malfoy had overdone it yesterday to the degree that Harry felt like he had been going on for weeks.

He yawned widely and tried to flip himself over, but found that his hand was stuck for some reason. He let a disgruntled growl, but yawned again and decided to let it be.

"Don't _sleep, _Potter! I've found something!" Malfoy exclaimed, annoyance clear in his voice.

"You have? That's nice, good for you, now I'm going to go back to sleep."

In Harry's defense, one at least had to mention that Malfoy had _'found something' _(completely useless) about once every thirty minutes the day before, so he had developed an immunity to Malfoy's great discoveries by now.

The weight on his stomach eased, and he was just about to thank Malfoy for the consideration when it smacked back down again, even harder.

"_Oof..." _he got out as the air went out of his lungs.

Harry cracked an eye open. "What?"

"I told you, I've found something." Malfoy repeated.

"I know, I know," Harry had to break off in order to yawn. Again. "But _what?" _

"I know how Voldemort found out that this was possible."

"What!" Harry shot straight up. Or at least he tried to. Mostly he just bounced back at the mattress.

For the first time he actually looked for the reason as to why he seemed to be so unable to move. Around his wrists, firmly held above his head, he spotted something silvery and green; suspiciously alike a Slytherin tie. When he lifted his head to look at his feet, he found them in a similar position.

"What the hell...!" he burst, struggling to get loose. In vain, needless to say.

"Oh, cut the crap, Potter, and listen to me," Malfoy said impatiently, waving the book around in his hand.

"I'm fucking _tied _to the bed, Malfoy!" he drawled struggling even harder.

"I know, I know, I had to go to the library, and I couldn't have the psychopath roaming around here if you woke up, so I tied you down," Malfoy explained, as if he was talking to a complete moron. Which on closer consideration, he probably thought that he was.

"And you thought that _tying me down _was easier than to just take me along!"

"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so…" Malfoy cut himself off, seeming alarmed for some reason, "Quite frankly, you looked like a horde of Cornish Pixies couldn't wake you. And besides, you would just distract me."

Harry sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Was it one thing head learned about Malfoy during all of this, it was that it was absolutely nothing to gain from trying to change his mind about something. A Malfoy mind was made up and set in stone long before you even got a chance to open your mouth.

"Then what the hell possessed you to tie me up with your _ties_?" Harry demanded. "Couldn't you at least have summoned _rope _when you were tying me, for crying out loud!"

"I didn't use my _wand _to tie you, Potter, I did it myself. And it's not like I have rope just lying about in here." Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes. "But _listen to me; _I have _found _something." Malfoy added, practically spelling out the words.

It didn't matter. An image of Malfoy kneeling on all fours, tying his wrists to a bedpost had appeared in Harry's mind.

"Potter. Listen. To. Me." Malfoy demanded, snapping him back to reality. Or the present, anyhow, seeing as what he had thought about might very well have happened.

"I'm listening, I'm listening," Harry assured quickly, and gave up the struggling.

"Good," Malfoy said, and moved further in on the mattress for Harry to be able to see the book that lay open in his lap. "Look at this," Malfoy said and pointed. Harry looked.

The picture under Malfoy's finger seemed old, but was surprisingly detailed. It showed a scene of a young knight kneeling in front of a king – judging by the crown – with a dagger in his hand, pointing at his own chest.

"This is some old book with lore and fables people supposedly told their kids long ago. It's described here how a king who was in battle was more often than not connected to one or several – should the first one die – of the knights fighting alongside him. If he died, his soul and magic could travel to another body and manifest inside of it. The knight would then kill himself in order to let the king have his body, and it very rarely happened that he didn't fulfill his part of the deal, seeing as the knight chosen for this had to have accepted this 'honor', as they call it. But the person that was to be taken over _had _to be close at the moment of death; otherwise the soul would vanish before it could manifest itself. And here comes the interesting part; seeing as a battle where the king dies is probably a losing one, the body is not only healed instantly, it's also apparated to a predetermined safe location. This leads us to conclude that it would be incredibly stupid for you to kill yourself." Malfoy said, and patted Harry's head condescendingly.

"And I also found the reason to why I'm good for you."

"What? Really? Why?" Harry asked in surprise, he had been wondering about that. And the sneaking suspicion that Hermione knew exactly why and that he had just neglected to ask her didn't help.

Malfoy smiled amusedly at him and shook his head. He then proceeded to toss the covers aside, revealing Harry's torso, and placed the book on his stomach. Harry himself couldn't really do much about it, seeing as he was still tied up.

"Oh, because there's something wrong with just using the nightstand?" he asked dryly and rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Malfoy replied, unable to hold back a smirk although he was obviously trying to look focused on the book whilst he flipped through the pages.

Harry – despite his annoyance – couldn't stop the twitching at the corners of his mouth. When the hell had they learned to be civilized to one another? Probably around the same time that they had reached the point where neither of them thought twice about the fact that he was tied like an X to the bedposts with Malfoy's ties while the blond in question sat cross-legged reading a book from Harry's stomach.

"Here," Malfoy said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes traveled down the page. Malfoy's lips moved almost unnoticeably as he read. Harry had seen him do that previously when they had been reading. Now that he thought about it, it was actually somewhat troubling that he apparently had been watching Malfoy's lips to that extent. He didn't get the chance to analyze it further, though.

"Apparently it's a very sensitive magical process, and can be disturbed very easily by other magic. It's the same thing with other magical possessions, but with them it's usually just in the process of creating the link in those cases. Here, it can cause problems until the chosen person actually dies. I haven't actually been able to find a recorded scenario were the chosen _didn't _kill himself immediately – or get killed, for that matter – but I'll take a guess and say that the reason to why I need to stay closer and closer is that Voldemort manifests himself further inside of you, and therefore, my magic helps less and less."

Malfoy looked up from the book and met Harry's eyes. Neither of them was smiling this time.

* * *

A/N: But I am smiling! I'm both smiling and crying, because you guys are bloody amazing! I am literally crying. Your reviews last chapter. And EVERY chapter… I don't know what to say.

Know that just because I don't ask for reviews every chapter doesn't mean that I don't enjoy them; I do. I do, and all your reviews make me feel so appreciated and so _proud_ that I have managed to create something that you like. Thank you. Thank you so much.

So, until next time, everyone!


	21. December 27th

**Chapter 21**

"I am brilliant. If you thank me and call me a genius now I will graciously accept it, Potter, just because I'm in such a good mood." Malfoy declared as he entered the room.

"Forgive me, but I think I'll just call you a selfish _ignorant moron _for leaving me here again, and if you don't accept _that _I'm willing to kick you a few times to get it in!" Harry bellowed, struggling against the ties, desperate to hurt Malfoy in some way.

His torso was glistening in sweat from the effort to hold Voldemort back. Whatever magical juice Voldemort was running on, he was apparently not near fully recovered yet, but Harry had forgotten how hard it was, having to fight him on his own. And it was nothing he liked to be reminded of.

Malfoy's smirk dropped as he saw him and something similar to regret washed over his face for a second. Merlin, maybe Voldemort had gotten to Harry despite it all if he was _seeing _things.

Malfoy quickly put the pile of books he had brought aside on a table and climbed up in the bed to untie Harry.

"I didn't realize Voldemort could do anything yet, I didn't think it would matter if I left since nothing happened last time," Malfoy admitted, probably as close to an apology as Harry would get.

Before he got a chance to reply Malfoy had straddled his chest and bent forward to untie his left arm. A smart plan apparently, as Harry finally said: "It's okay…" quietly, instead of setting the gruesome plan of Malfoy's death (possibly thought up with a little help from Voldemort) in motion.

Harry let out a heavy breath as his arm came loose and brought it down to his side quickly, enjoying the feeling of his blood streaming back into it.

As Malfoy leaned forward to untie his other arm Harry realized he could look straight up his shirt. He felt somewhat… sneaky doing so, but seeing as he _slept _beside Malfoy every night and there actually were times when he slept without his nightshirt, Harry didn't understand why. Before he could ponder that further, Malfoy's flat stomach disappeared out of view as he moved to untie Harry's legs.

Harry sat up and rubbed his sore wrists and glared at the back of Malfoy's head as he worked on the knots. Harry figured that he could probably do that himself now, but he considered it as a small punishment for Malfoy to do it.

"_Smell my feet…" _Harry thought viciously and wiggled his toes.

Malfoy chuckled. "What are you doing?" he asked in amusement, and turned with a pale eyebrow raised.

Harry blushed. "Nothing," he said quickly, deciding to quickly change the subject. "So tell me, why you are so brilliant?"

"Besides being an expert with knots," Malfoy said triumphantly, and held up the ties. "I have solved the second part of that song of yours."

"You have!" Harry burst, suddenly willing to call Malfoy whatever the other man pleased.

Malfoy winked at him as he stood, walking to the table where he had left his books and started flipping through the pages of the top one. Harry quickly got to his feet and followed to look, but Malfoy slammed the book shut with a wicked grin.

"Now, now, Potter, patience, you do know which sentence I'm talking about here, don't you?"

"_For the final resting intaglio is thy solitary choice, and hence thy mortal shalt be alone no more._ You're not the only one thinking here, you know," Harry said huffily.

"You could have fooled me."

Harry made a mental note to beat Malfoy down later, as for right now; he just wanted to hear what he had to say. "Yes, yes, just get to the point, would you?"

Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Do you know what an intaglio is?"

"Eh... a gemstone?" he answered hesitantly vaguely recalling Hermione going on about something including the unfamiliar word Malfoy had just uttered.

"Not per se. I think, in this text, it's supposed to refer to an _engraved_ jewel,"

"Engraved?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, _engraved, _Potter, but I think in this case, the engraving is Voldemort's soul."

Harry stared at Malfoy for a long time.

"Are you saying..." he took a deep breath and started over again, "Are you saying that the last piece of Voldemort's soul is, in fact, not in my head, but in a perfectly destroyable gemstone?"

Malfoy nodded.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. But it doesn't work with just a stone, though. One need to get the... the signals, if you will, out somehow. Jewels are very good at keeping things in, but not very good at letting them out. If Voldemort were to use just a stone, it would need to be close to you at all times, to make sure that the signal isn't broken. I think he used a metal as some sort of transmitter. A device like this would require a large stone, but not very much metal, which narrows it down a little."

"I'm going to assume that you've got an idea on what we're looking for?"

"I do." Malfoy said, his perfect teeth flashing in a brief smile. "I think that he used a ruby. They're excellent for shielding from psychic attacks and gathering and amplifying energy."

"But... Shouldn't that mean that rubies are doing exactly what he _don't _want them to do?"

"No, the ruby helpshim shielding youoff, preventing that _you _attack _him _instead of the other way around. A Ruby would be perfect."

Harry made a face. "I have a hard time picturing Voldemort in something so... _red_..."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "I hardly think Voldemort would let something as mundane as _colour_ get in the way of his brilliant plan to defy death. An emerald, which I guess you assume would be the natural choice, _represents _youth and long life, but in reality it doesn't do much. And it doesn't possess the shielding qualities of a ruby."

Harry couldn't help but smile widely at Malfoy. There was just something... _amazing _about the blond.

"As for the metal, I'd guess platinum. It helps determination, cohesiveness and manifestations. That sounds like something that should fit Voldemort's need, doesn't it?"

"It does." Harry agreed with that stupid smile on his lips. "Now we only have to find something platinum and ruby-y"

"Already have." Malfoy said.

"What? You have? How?"

"Well, like I said, the bigger the better. And I'm guessing that Voldemort would like the best of the best, and the best rubies are from Burma. And there just happens to be a platinum ring with a 23.1 carat Burmese ruby – which I might tell you is exceptionally large – at display at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C., acquired through a generous donation gifted by Peter and Carmen Lucia Rosales, who just happen to be the hosts of a death eater gathering my parents went to last summer."

Harry stared at Malfoy. How in Merlin's name had he managed to find out all of this?

"Sounds like something likely," he agreed, grinning so widely that his cheeks hurt. Two breakthroughs in one day. _Finally _they were getting somewhere.

* * *

To clarify; Draco have been working on this for quite some time, and just now managed to fit all the pieces together. But of course, Harry couldn't know that.

And, another thing that I do have to admit. I'm writing on chapter 33 now. Yes. Sorry about that. You wouldn't stand waiting for me if I hadn't pre-written… hm… let's see… oh, just about 15 chapters before I even started posting.

No. I just checked. I wrote _**22**_ chapters before I posted anything. So after next one, things will be new. Yes. It's that bad. But, still, 16 000 words in 20 days isn't horrible. Or is it?


	22. December 28th

**Chapter 22**

"Why didn't we leave yesterday?" Harry asked miserably, sprawling at the floor. His eyes hurt from all the reading that they had spent the whole day doing. Without Malfoy actually telling Harry what they were looking for. The damned Slytherin in Malfoy – all of him in other words – seemed to endlessly enjoy to keeping Harry out of the loop as much as possible.

"We figured it _out _yesterday, Potter. I know you like to rush headfirst into things, but I actually do like to think before acting. Things tend to go better that way." Malfoy said absentmindedly, eyes on the note he was scribbling. "Move, you're lying on my books."

Harry obligingly rolled off. "Yeah, because _you're_ the one who defeated Voldemort, and _I'm_ the one who joined him…" he muttered sarcastically and rolled his eyes.

Malfoy glared. "Yeah, but at least there's only me in _my _head."

"Screw you," Harry declared. "We agreed that he was in that ring and not in my head."

Malfoy sighed. "There's a lot to plan, Potter. We can't just march in there and demand to get the jewel; I have to check what portkeys we can use, who to ask at the ministry and how to make our case."

"Make our case?" Harry asked and sat. "What are you planning to do?"

"We have to know what to say to them, I know you have your name and all, but I do think that Washington will be quite unwilling to give us _anything_ if _we _don't give them a valid reason to why they should. We need to tell them something to get them to give the ring to us."

Harry got on feet and walked over to where Malfoy sat. He stared down at the book in the man's lap. It was a book of magical law and rights, currently displaying something about exceptions in certain bills in favor of the citizens.

_This _was what they had been doing?

Trying his best to suppress the fury that grew inside of him – probably fuelled enthusiastically by Voldemort – he released a bit of his magic and slammed the book shut with a twist of his hand.

"We are _not _going to tell anyone _anything__."_Harry said, his jaw set.

Malfoy looked at the now closed book in his lap, but didn't look frightened, more like… _curious. _

"And why is that?" Malfoy asked dryly.

"'If we tell anyone about this, they will know that Voldemort is likely to come back. And I can't do that to them, not now, not when everyone is so happy. This is _my _problem; they shouldn't be troubled with it."

Malfoy looked up at him with his brow furrowed. Then he reached out and grabbed hold of Harry's wrist and dragged him down on the floor again. He was so surprised that he almost forgot that he was angry for a second.

"Potter, first of all, this is not _your _problem; this is _our _problem. Don't ever think that you will have to handle this alone as long as I'm here." Malfoy said, surprisingly solemn. The grey eyes rested heavily on him, seeming to seek some sort of confirmation of that Harry had listened and accepted. So he nodded.

Malfoy released him, but the displeased look on his face didn't disappear. "Then, you do realize what the only other option is?"

Harry's jaw set as he nodded in reply.

Malfoy shook his head with a deep sigh. "You really should think more about yourself, Potter." Malfoy put the book aside and stood. "I'm not looking forward to breaking into the Smithsonian museum and _stealing _one of their probably most valuable treasures, and I'm definitely not thinking it's the best idea. But you decide. You're the stupid hero with the need to save everyone, even form things that aren't really a danger to them. In this matter, I will do as you say. As long as we stick to my plan when we're there."

"You plan ahead all you want, when we're there, we _agree _before we act," Harry said firmly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "This really shouldn't be a place for you to negotiate, Potter, but as you please; I'm sure I can talk you into whatever I want later anyway."

Malfoy ended the subject by picking up his parchment and quill again. He flipped the small note over and started over with his scribbling on the backside.

"What are you doing now?" Harry asked in annoyance.

"I'm starting over; I'm doing a shopping list," Malfoy said with a grin.

"A shopping list?" he asked in surprise. "What for?"

"Things we might need to pick up before we leave." Malfoy said.

"No more research? No planning ahead?"

"No planning ahead." Malfoy confirmed. "This is the one no one was ever supposed to find, Potter, we will just have to deal with whatever is put in front of us."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "We found it. _You _found it. How can that be so hard to find?"

Malfoy shot a face his way. "No offence taken, thank you very much."

Harry just shrugged with a mischievous grin on his face. Though the insult hadn't been intended he could still taunt Malfoy with it. Obviously.

"Anyhow," Malfoy continued, "We had to dig through the lot of my father's extensive library to find even the slightest clue; not even Hogwarts had anything on it. And what we found was a vague poem and an old children's story; fiction that no one was supposed to take seriously. And it lead us to a ring ostensibly donated by a loved muggle couple. Which we tracked to one of the world's largest muggle museums. In Washington; a city which holds one of the world's lowest amount of wizards per capita. No, this wasn't supposed to be found. And it wouldn't surprise me if the magic protecting the ring reflects that. Voldemort wanted no one but him to access that ruby."

"There are no wizards in Washington?" Harry asked in surprise.

"And _that's _what you pick up, of everything I say," Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. "No Potter, besides the president's security, there really aren't many at all. Some paranoid president over there a while back decided that magic could be a threat to security and had most of them move out of the city. Not many have bothered moving back."

Harry sat in silence for a while, amazed. He didn't know what he felt about giving Malfoy credit for such a thing as this, but this was pure… brilliance.

"Do you see, Potter?" Malfoy asked, "It's perfect. Not only did he take use of a method forgotten centuries ago, he hid in a place where no one would look, a place and an object that has no ties to him what so ever."

"Wow…" Harry finally managed to get out, "I can't believe that you figured this out."

A familiar smirk spread over Malfoy's lips.

"I know, I'm prodigious. But you will have to worship me later, Potter; we have a few heists to plan."

* * *

Ah, I got a question in a review, and I realized that I had just _thought _the answer, and never written it done. And now I'm so far off that if I tried to put it in somewhere it would be like gluing a piece of a jigsaw to get it to stick. Not smooth. So I'm just going to say it; the magic isn't affected by distance.

I didn't realize it until now, but I have probably been a bit unclear. Or at least claimed that two opposites are both true.

Voldemort is manifested inside of Harry. There's no distance there. The ring is just... a base camp or something. A container which lets him stay; without it he would be dead. Which is why they need to destroy _that_ and not Harry's head.

And I'm sorry I didn't post anything last night; I haven't been feeling very well lately, so I went straight to sleep. Sorry


	23. December 29th, Tuesday

**Chapter 23**

"_A few?" Harry __asked. "I thought the only thing we needed to take was the ring?" _

"_And how had you planned to break into the Smithsonian, may I ask, Potter?" Malfoy asked. _

"_Er… you were the one planning…" _

"_Exactly," Malfoy said, "So listen to me; I have a plan…" _

_*ϟ*ϟ*_

Michelle Prideaux had moved to England not long ago. Actually, she'd just spent two months in this rainy country, whose language she didn't know. Just last week she had managed to get a job; her title was now Assistant to the office of magical travel. In other words; she sorted papers she barely could read for a man whose name she kept forgetting. And he didn't speak French either.

Out of everything, she missed her beloved language the most. English held no grace. The words would tumble out of the mouths of the speakers, sounding condescending and rushed. No grace at all. And the pronunciation! It made no sense! Not even the simplest words, spelled the same way, were pronounced similarly. _Home, _and _some, _for example. There was a difference between _do _and _no, _for crying out loud! This would be hard.

Just as the thought flew through Michelle's mind, someone cleared his throat above her head, snapping her attention up from the papers she was currently flipping through.

In front of her paper strewn desk, stood a tallish man with black hair twisting his hands with a somewhat nervous gesture.

"Er, excuse me, is this Jonathan Grey's office?" the man asked, shifting his round glasses higher on his straight nose.

Yes, _merde_, that was it. She had taken a guess at "Josh" this morning, but no; Jonathan was the name of her boss.

"Yes." She answered; glad that such a simple reply was available. And that he had asked a question she actually understood.

The man looked relieved. "Oh good, could I please talk to him for just a minute?" the man asked and dragged a hand through the messy black hair, pulling a few strands away from his face.

She was just about to tell him that you needed to have an appointment – the newest word in her vocabulary – when she saw what the disappearance of the hair had revealed. A lightning-bolt scar.

_Dieu, _had she been talking to _Harry Potter _this whole time? Well, screw that appointment, Mr Grey would definitely want to take this meeting.

She tried her hardest to look as though she wasn't as struck by panic as she actually was as she replied; "Yes, of course," and scrambled to her feet in order to knock on her boss's door.

The grey-haired man looked up as she stuck her head in the office. "Mr Grey," she said, thankful that Potter had given her the name, "Harry Potter is here to see you."

The man had returned to his own paper before she had finished the sentence.

"Yes, yes, tell him to wait, I'll take him in a few minutes." Grey replied absentmindedly.

She lingered at the door hesitantly; maybe she'd misunderstood. No, she knew the word _wait; _she had heard it a lot around here. Could one tell that to Harry Potter? He seemed like a nice enough man, but Jonathan Grey was just a low ranking ministry official.

"You're sure, Sir?" Michelle asked.

"Yes, yes, of course, tell Mr… Whatever his name was, that he'll have to wait."

"Mr Potter," she filled in, anguish rising in her chest at the awaiting task. "Yes, I'll tell him that."

Grey's head snapped up again. "Potter?" He asked, disbelief mixed with something that must've been horror in his face. "_The _Potter?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Then send him in at once!" he demanded and stood, straightening his somewhat ugly tie.

"Of course," she said and stepped out to gesture at Harry Potter that he could come in.

Harry Potter smiled warmly at her as she held the door open for him and nodded thanks. She smiled back a little and shut the door after him. Hearing Grey's deep voice exclaim, "Mr Potter! What can I do for you this fine day?" before it clicked shut.

Letting out a heavy breath she leaned against her desk, feeling faint and more than a little star-struck. _Harry Potter. _Merde. She would have to go in there and ask if they wanted tea in five minutes or so, just to make sure she had not been mistaken.

Thank god that she hadn't been forced to tell him to wait. She didn't know how she would handle being alone with the man – however nice – for an extended amount of time. That she felt this towards a man probably five years her junior was more than a little embarrassing. Granted, a man five years younger than her who was considered to be one of the greatest wizards of this time. Being embarrassed maybe wasn't that bad after all.

She leaned back a little with another sigh. But she shouldn't have; when she put down her hand for support she accidently bumped into the huge pile of sorted documents, which fell and spread all over the floor. The sigh turned into a groan as she fell to her knees and tried to gather everything in a pile.

Suddenly spotting a folder under the heavy desk she pressed her cheek to the floor and sneaked her arm through the narrow space between the wood and the floor in a vain attempt to reach it. As she did, a pair of fancy shoes came into view.

"Can I help you?" a smooth voice asked pleasantly.

Hm, she thought, whoever it was, he actually managed to make English sound rather nice.

She managed to get her arm out after a little struggling, and sat back on her knees, relived that it at least wasn't stuck. "If you could," she sighed. "My… my… _merde…" _sheswore. She had forgotten what _classeur _was in English. In a desperate attempt to communicate she said it in French and gestured towards the table.

To her surprise the man replied.

"Your file is under the table?" he asked. In _French!_

Her head snapped up in chock at the familiar words. She was little embarrassed when she realized that she hadn't looked up until then. But it was a shame she soon forgot when she actually looked.

The blond that now stood in front of him was taller than Harry Potter had been – though her view might not have been perfect, seeing as she sat on the ground – and stunning. Harry Potter did not look bad himself, but she'd always preferred blonds. And this man... well, this man was most definitely blond; and strikingly handsome.

"_Accio file," _he said, and the folder came flying. He caught it with ease and handed it to her.

A little flustered, she accepted it. Why hadn't she thought of that? Now the blond must think that she was an idiot. But the open smile on his perfect lips said that he most certainly did not.

"Here, let me help you," he said, still in French, and stretched out his hand for her to take. He helped her to her feet as though she was a princess and he desired nothing more than to be there for her. Still he held her hand, even though she now stood upright.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself. "Pleased to meet you."

"Michelle Prideaux," she replied and shook his hand lightly.

Draco released her hand and flicked his wand again. She barely contained a gasp of surprise as all the files flew back on the desk again.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

"You're quite welcome," he replied.

_French blessed French. _

"You're new here?" Draco asked.

"Does it show that much?" she asked miserably.

Draco laughed. It felt as though her knees would give in. "No, I was acquainted with the old secretary… oh, what was her name…"

"Margret," she filled in helpfully.

"Yes! Yes, Margret it was. She was never very pleasant towards me; I guess I never really bothered with remembering her name properly." Draco replied with a sort of sheepish smile.

"I don't think she knew how to _be _pleasant," she smiled back, "Do you come here a lot?" she blushed as she realized it sounded like a bad pickup line.

But this Malfoy didn't seem to be bothered with it. "Yes, I'm an assistant too; to Mr Dawson over at the sports department. He travels a lot so I get to fetch him portkeys quite often."

"And that's why you came here?" she guessed with a smile.

Draco suddenly looked startled. "Yes, Merlin, it was! I totally forgot," Draco burst, slipping back to English momentarily. "I'm so sorry, but my boss isn't really known for his good temper, I really need to get going now." Draco said, thankfully back at French again, and started moving towards Mr Grey's door.

"Where are you going?" she asked in alarm.

"Oh, I just need the key to the storage," he said, and made a motion towards the door she very well knew was the storage.

But she couldn't let Draco in there now! He could be as expected as he liked, she was certain that she would lose her job if she let her boss be interrupted of such a trivial matter when he was in a meeting with Harry Potter.

"Wait!" she burst, "I can unlock the door! Wait, I'll get it for you!" she hurried towards the door, wand in hand. She tapped it lightly against the knob as she turned to look at Draco once again.

"Where is he going?" she asked.

"An eight o'clock to Washington, of all the wretched places. Apparently there are some matters that needed to be discussed with security," Malfoy said with a shrug.

She nodded in sympathy and pulled out the portkey. There weren't that many to Washington so the eight o'clock wasn't hard to find. It was an old and ugly orange teapot.

She gave it to Draco, who lit up.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he said and smiled at her as though they had just shared an internal joke.

She smiled a little hesitantly back.

Mr Grey's laughter suddenly reached them through the closed door, making both their heads turn towards it.

"You'll never guess who he's talking to!" she said, grateful for an opportunity to finally impress this Draco Malfoy a little.

"Really? Who?" Malfoy asked with raised eyebrows.

"Harry Potter!" she declared in a dramatic whisper.

Draco's smile was bemused as he slipped through the door. "You don't say?"


	24. December 29th

**Chapter 24**

"That was… Surprisingly easy." Harry said as they returned to Malfoy manor; this time, both on the inside of the house. Malfoy started walking down a long hallway, so Harry followed.

"Easy, yes," Malfoy replied, "Surprisingly so, no. Did you get the polyjuice?"

"Of course I did," he answered, "How did you get her to agree to let you into the storage?" Harry asked.

"I charmed her with my pleasantry." Malfoy replied with a shrug.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Do you know how to do that?" He asked, "Pleasantry? Is that something you possess?"

Malfoy sent him a frown. "How to you think one manipulates people? They have to like you for you to be able to manipulate them; if they don't, you're threatening them."

Harry laughed again, mostly at Malfoy huffed tone.

"Some people _do _like me, Potter, even though that might be hard for you to understand." Malfoy said with a pointed glare.

"It isn't that hard to understand; I like you, why wouldn't others?" Harry said, still amused.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. "You _like _me?" he demanded.

Harry's gladness was immediately replaced with uncertainty. "Well… yes. I do, I guess. Don't you like me?"

For what Harry was certain was the first time _ever _he actually saw a pinkish tint rise on Malfoy's cheeks.

"What in Merlin's name do you think, Potter? I took an unbreakable vow, promising to helping you survive Voldemort's beleaguerment of your mind, which lead to defying my father's wishes and just risking Azkaban for your sake." Malfoy said, clearly annoyed.

"I think that it sounds like plenty of reasons to hate me," Harry answered in complete honesty, feeling a lot more than a little bad for everything he was putting Malfoy through.

"Of course it is Potter, but I'm doing it because I _do_ like you."

Harry smiled widely; though the confession had slipped past Malfoy's lips in annoyance over that Harry didn't understand what he was saying, it was still very much a confession.

"Thank you," Harry said pleasantly.

Malfoy just sighed and rolled his eyes, but the twitch in his lips as he did so did not elude Harry.

"Well isn't that just adorable," a dry voice drawled behind them, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd very much like to know what my son did that could get him sent to Azkaban?"

They spun around simultaneously at the sound of Lucius' voice.

"Nothing I didn't choose to do, father," Malfoy replied coldly, and Harry noticed how he discreetly hid the orange teapot behind his back.

Lucius took a step closer. "That, Draco, is exactly what's troubling me."

Malfoy stiffened noticeably by his side. "Father," he said, "We have already had this discussion, I will not have it again."

With the fury in Lucius eyes, Harry was surprised that Draco dared say anything.

"I'm not looking for a discussion, son, for the moment I merely want to know _why." _Lucius said. "Why do you want to do this?"

"I'm not under the illusion that you didn't just hear what I said, father." Malfoy simply replied.

Lucius Malfoy stood silent for a while. Then he said: "You will fail. But it shall not be because I interfered." Then the older Malfoy turned and left them alone once again.

Harry was the first to speak. "What did that mean?" he wanted to know.

"Exactly what he said," Malfoy replied, "That he doesn't approve of what I'm doing for you, but that he won't do anything to stop me."

"That's… nice of him…" Harry said uncertainly.

"Yes, but I…" Malfoy started, looking pensive, but never finished the sentence.

"He was planning on stopping us?" Harry finally asked when Malfoy didn't say anything further.

"Yes, he threatened me with it last time. I knew he couldn't do anything during Christmas since it would drag far too much attention to us, so I expected something to happen soon. Just not… this."

"What do you think made him change his mind?" Harry asked.

Malfoy was silent for a while, and then said: "I'd rather not know."

*ϟ*ϟ*

"Your room is starting to look like a library," Harry said as he looked out over the room later that evening.

"It does," Malfoy agreed, doing the same, "And I've read a frightening amount of these in the past week."

"Do you think there's anyone we should read before we leave?"

"There most definitely are, but seeing as I don't know which, I say we screw the books for tonight. It feels like I haven't done anything but reading for years."

They sat in a comfortable silence as the minutes ticked by, Malfoy doodling on a piece of parchment and Harry examining the fine silver chain around his neck.

"What do you think we'll be up against, really?" Harry asked finally.

Malfoy sighed. "It's hard to say. I think it'll be seemingly unbreakable, but I don't think it will be hurtful. Well, possibly you being the only exception in your somewhat fragile state…"

Harry huffed a little at being called _fragile, _but let it pass.

"It can't be unbreakable. We need to get that thing open." Harry said, his voice somewhat tense.

"I know, that's why I said 'seemingly'" Malfoy said, and looked at him with his brow furrowed. "How are you really, Potter?"

Harry reflexively grabbed tighter around the vial at the end of the chain. "I don't know. I'm having nightmares, but Voldemort is being uncomfortably silent. I think he's still a bit worn out since he tried to take me over, but it's not only that… It's like he doesn't really mind that we're finding his hiding place. It has me worried." He admitted.

"It doesn't matter." Malfoy concluded firmly. "We might be playing him straight into his hands, but we still need to find that ruby to destroy it, we don't have a choice."

"I know." Harry sighed. "But it's still unsettling,"

"Don't think too much about it, Potter," Malfoy advised, "It might just be because he's an arrogant sod and believe that we won't be able to reach the ring."

Harry laughed a little, but didn't feel entirely comfortable with Malfoy insulting Voldemort.

"Do you know what I'm dreaming about?" Harry asked and swallowed harshly.

"No?" Malfoy said and raised his eyebrows.

"It's about… I think it's a mixture of my fears and Voldemort's wishes, and all I keep dreaming about is what Voldemort will do to you when I die… It's… not pleasant," Harry said awkwardly.

Malfoy was silent for a while, looking stunned.

"First of all, Potter, it's _if_ you die, not _when."_

"There's no 'ifs' in my dreams," Harry replied with a shrug. "But sure, if. _If _I die, Malfoy, you must promise me to run. You will be the first person he wants to kill."

"I won't run until you die. And _if _you do, I will fight. That bastard won't get away with taking you from me." Malfoy turned his eyes away quickly, breaking the fierceness. "From everyone, I mean. From everyone."

"Yes, of course," Harry replied, still surprised.

"Potter..." Draco said suddenly, after a long silence.

"Yes?" he answered.

"I don't want you to die", the Slytherin said, "Not because you will turn into Voldemort, but because I…" the blonde looked up at him with a little smile. "Anyway, I just thought I should say that..."

* * *

Sorry that I didn't updated yesterday; I was staying at a friend's place for the night.

Hope you enjoy!

Until next time, everyone!


	25. December 30th, Wednesday

**Chapter 25**

"Potter, time to wake up," Malfoy whispered in Harry's ear.

"I didn't sleep." Harry whispered back, though he didn't really know why he kept his voice low.

"I know." Malfoy simply replied and crawled out of bed. The blond threw him the clothes they had decided on wearing the day before, and picked up the pants for his own array. Harry caught the clothes midair and spread the garments out over the bed to find what he was supposed to put on first.

"You know," he said as he found the arms of the shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it up. "I've never really known when I was going to have to face death before. This is a first. It feels kind of… strange…"

"Are you scared, Potter?" Malfoy asked, just a little bit of taunting in his voice.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Of course I'm scared." He said.

Malfoy turned his head and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then he shut it and just shook his head a little with a bemused smile.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"You are putting your pants on hindforemost. And I'm sure it's easier to clothe yourself standing, rather than sitting in my bed." Malfoy commented.

"You're the one always complaining about not wanting to see my legs," Harry said as he pulled the pants off for a new try.

"I think I can live through this one." Malfoy said with a shrug and pulled a tie around his neck.

They had decided – or rather; Malfoy had decided – that a nondescript muggle suit probably was the best choice of clothes for a mission such as this. They would pose as security guards to get inside of the museum, and then take it from there.

Harry climbed out of bed and put the pants on, the right way this time around. After putting on his own jacket he began searching in his trunk after an appropriate pair of socks. After finding one, Harry sat down on the bed again to put them on his feet.

"We bring the invisibility cloak and the polyjuice; do you think there's anything more we need?"

"If we could get a hold of a couple of bottles of Felix Felicis, I wouldn't complain," Malfoy said, turned to the mirror he had conjured, floating in midair. "But other than that I-… Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter!" Malfoy burst as he shot a glance in Harry's direction.

"What?" he asked in surprise. The socks were just plain black, what was wrong with that?

"Do you _know_ how to clothe yourself?" Malfoy asked with a heavy sigh.

Something, apparently, seeing as Malfoy walked over and pulled Harry to his feet.

"You missed a button." Malfoy said and pointed. Harry looked down at the bump on his shirt.

"Oh."

Before he could do anything, Malfoy had begun freeing the buttons from their respective holes. Slowly but surely, Harry's torso was revealed.

After unbuttoning the whole thing, Malfoy said: "I'd better do your tie, too, with the skill you have with clothing today you would probably strangle yourself with it…" and picked up the tie from the bed.

Malfoy placed the cool silk directly against the skin on his throat. "Just pull the shirt under it once you have buttoned it again,"

Malfoy's hands worked quickly, making a far better knot than Harry had ever managed with magic. Once done, Malfoy pressed his palm to the fabric, laying it flat against Harry's chest. Then he took a step back, looking at Harry, not far from how an artist admiring his work probably would do.

But as Harry stood there, staring at Malfoy staring at him, something in the Slytherin's face changed. Malfoy looked at him as if he could eat him. Or possibly even kiss him. Harry's breath hitched in his throat as he watched the blond. No one, _no one _– which really said something -, had ever looked at Harry with such complete adoration. More than anything, Malfoy looked like he wanted to snog Harry down against the bed.

And for an insane moment, Harry thought that he would let him.

But then Malfoy shook his head and stepped back even further, back to the floating mirror.

"I don't know what it is, but hand-made ties always look better than those tied with magic…" Malfoy said, as if the moment that just happened… hadn't happened.

But Harry knew it had. It didn't feel unreal, didn't feel like he had just imagined it. It felt _too _real. Malfoy's eyes staring at him, making his skin hot and his breath heavy.

What in Merlin's name had happened?

But two could play Malfoy's game. "Yeah, I don't know, maybe magic has a problem with fine motorics…" he said with a little laugh.

Malfoy laughed with him, a perfect, though emotionless really, laugh.

Harry turned away to button his shirt and put on his shoes, and doing so in silence.

_Merlin. _And the strangest part was that Harry wasn't surprised. Or, no; he was surprised, just not _chocked_. Like Draco Malfoy actually could look at Harry Potter with adoration in his eyes in real life.

He turned around, feeling the need to distract himself from his raging mind, and opened his mouth to say something. Though he forgot what as soon as he laid his eyes on Malfoy.

Unlike Harry, Malfoy apparently knew how to clothe himself. Whilst Harry felt like he was a ten-year-old running around in his father's suit – well maybe not his _father's _-, Malfoy looked like he had been born to wear this thing.

The dark trousers made Malfoy's legs seem even longer. The jacket fit snugly around his waist and shoulders and the tie made him look very adult and mature. And for the first time in a long while, his blond hair was combed back.

Sounds slipped out of Harry's mouth, but it certainly wasn't words. It was possible he had entirely lost the ability to speak comprehensibly.

Malfoy looked back at him with slightly raised eyebrows. His face stood out with the hair combed back. The grey eyes were clear, awake, shimmering like silver, and his lips…

Before Harry knew what happened he had taken several steps forward. He just… wanted to touch Malfoy a little. Or possibly a lot.

"You should probably close your mouth…" Malfoy suddenly said, without any particular tone of voice.

Harry blinked and reconnected to his brain. "Yes. Yes, I probably should."

_Merlin._

From out of nowhere, both he and Malfoy had suddenly become transfixed with the beauty of the other. Or whatever it was Malfoy had been transfixed with. But Harry was positive; he had never seen anyone as handsome as Draco Malfoy in that very moment.

Thank Merlin they would only be wearing these suits for today.

* * *

My, seems Harry fancied that suit... or maybe what's in it...? XD

Er... yes, I might accidentally be... one, two, three... yes, five hours late. In my defence I bought a new video-game Saturday. Dragon Age II. Anyone who has played that or the prequel knows why I haven't touched my computer this weekend (has it on my 360). It's absolutely bloody amazing.

Yes, I'm addicted.

Any late updates can be blamed on the game for the next week or so...!

Anyhow, hope you enjoyed. Until next time, everyone!


	26. December 30th Wednesday

**Chapter 26**

_(A/N: Keep the time zones in mind. 8 o'clock in the morning in England and a time difference on -5 hours means that it's 3 o'clock in the night in Washington D.C.)_

The landing of the portkey was rough. It wrenched them from Malfoy's room at eight o'clock in the morning; very punctual, and then tossed them into a dark room hopefully located somewhere in Washington.

Harry somehow managed to catch himself against a wall with both of his hands, despite feeling like he had been shot from a cannon from England to here. He opened his eyes, blinking in the compact darkness, wondering where his glasses might have gone.

Slowly but surely his vision adapted to the blackness. Only inches from his face, staring down at him, stood Malfoy with his back against the wall, head between Harry's both hands.

Reflexively Harry drew in a deep breath, which unfortunately only resulted in that he filled his nose with the scent of Malfoy. This really wasn't unfortunate in itself, except that Harry didn't need any more confusion at this very moment.

He pushed away from the wall quickly and turned away.

"Do you know where my glasses are?" he asked, looking around on the floor.

"Over there," Malfoy said and pointed.

Harry went over and picked them up. Putting them on, he looked around in the room. It was cold and square, the walls bare and grey. It looked like a basement of some sort.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"In a secret basement of the Washington monument," Malfoy replied, also looking around. "This is where all travellers with portkey appear by default."

"Why?" Harry wanted to know.

"Come here, and I'll show you." Malfoy said, and walked over to a door Harry previously hadn't seen.

"The door-handle is useless, this can only be opened with magic," Malfoy explained as he tapped his wand to the door and it swung open.

They climbed a small set of stairs and then stepped outside through another door.

"Wow…" Harry breathed as he looked around.

They stood in what looked like the middle of a large, flat, grassy area, though covered in frost this freezing December evening. The Washington monument towered over their heads, seeming like it reached all the way to the stars high up above. At one end, a humongous white building Harry vaguely recognized as the Capitol stood proud on a hill, eerily lit by electrical lights.

"I told you they aren't too fond of wizards in Washington, so they place everyone travelling to here in between the two buildings that are most likely their destination." Malfoy pointed. "The Capitol." Malfoy's hand on Harry's shoulder turned him around. "And the White House."

"Wow." Harry said again, as he stood looking at the building at the end of the large slope. "You'll have to take me here sometime again, Malfoy, when all this is over…" he mumbled without really thinking.

Malfoy looked at him in surprise, and Harry blushed as he realized what his words really meant.

"If you me want to." Malfoy promised. "But now… The subject for our break-in is over there," Malfoy said and pointed towards another large white building, this time at the side of the grass. They really seemed to have a thing for white in Washington.

"That's the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and we are going to the second floor, to the Janet Annenberg Hooker Hall of Geology, Gems and Minerals," Malfoy said.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"How do you know all this?"

Malfoy sighed. "Reading. A lot of reading…"

Malfoy started walking towards the museum, so Harry followed.

The building was even more amazing up close that it had seemed. The pillars at the entry were thick like large stocks, gleaming pearly white in the moonlight.

"Hey, what are you two doing here?" a surprisingly friendly voice suddenly called, "I'm afraid that the museum is currently closed, but if there's anything else I can-" Before the man could finish his sentence, he fell stiff on the ground.

Harry met Malfoy's eyes.

"I really feel horrible for doing that," Harry said and shook his head.

Malfoy shrugged. "He's just unconscious, it doesn't hurt him. And after I obliviate him, he won't even remember it."

"I know, but still. He might get in trouble for this later; he seemed like a nice person." Harry said and watched uncomfortably as Malfoy removed the man's memories and pulled a hair from his head.

"A red-head. Just perfect…" Malfoy said dryly as he held up the hair.

"I can take the Polyjuice if you want?" Harry offered as Malfoy pulled out the bottle and put the hair in it. With a faint glow, the liquid in it turned the colour of orange juice.

"No, you're already two people. I'd rather not know what would happen if we put a third into the mix." Malfoy said as he put the bottle to his lips and drank.

Harry watched with a curious – and unexplainable – sense of dissatisfaction as Malfoy's features changed.

Finally, the same tall, handsome-ish, red-headed man that lay on the ground stood in front of Harry, wearing Malfoy's displeased frown.

"I'm already missing myself…" Malfoy said.

"At least the choice of suit was good," Harry offered with a shrug, pointing towards the real whoever-he-was on the ground. The suits were, at first gaze, almost identical.

Malfoy just sighed, apparently unwilling to accept any consolation or encouragement at the moment, and bent down to take the guard's keys and card. He tossed the keys to Harry – who caught them easily – but kept the card and examined it closer. Harry observed curiously as Malfoy, pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, drew his wand and mumbled a spell. Harry gaped in surprise when the ink on the card appeared on the piece of paper, transforming it into an exact copy.

"I've never seen that spell before! What was that?" he hissed, thankfully remembering that they weren't supposed to draw attention to them.

"Of course you haven't seen it, Potter; I invented it. Vince and Greg got tired of copying my homework, and I got tired of hearing them whine, so there really wasn't much else to do…" Malfoy said with a shrug and stood.

"Wow… If only Ron had known that spell…" Harry said with a grin.

"Yeah, only Weasel probably would've thought of the fact that the handwriting would be identical, unlike Crab and Goyle, who got detention for a week…" Malfoy said dryly and handed him the card.

Harry accepted it in surprise; Malfoy had almost _complimented _Ron.

"You will have to wear it upside-down," Malfoy continued, pointing at the red-head's face looking stern at the picture, "but at least it's better than nothing."

Harry examined the picture closely, his brow furrowed. Then he smiled and drew his wand and tapped the picture lightly.

"Is this better?" Harry asked, and handed it back to Malfoy, whose eyebrows raised in response.

"Colour-changing spell… Smart," he admitted. "But still, you should probably avoid anyone looking to closely at that…"

Harry took the card back and looked at the altered picture. Though the man's hair was now black, they still weren't particularly alike. "Yeah, you're probably right," Harry said, "Not only because it says '_Thomas Walker_' on both of our cards,"

Malfoy sighed heavily and turned to the front doors. "I can't believe I'm doing this for you, Potter."

"I am really glad you are, though," Harry said sincerely.

Malfoy didn't reply.

"Potter, we are about to break into the Smithsonian, steal one of their one-of-a-kind jewels that is probably in some level of priceless-ness, not to mention protected that it's by Voldemort himself, a man that literally made a name for himself inventing unpleasant stuff. And we need to do this without getting caught, cause if we do, you – and just about everyone else, for that matter – are going to die. I hope you are prepared."

"I am." Harry replied.

Malfoy sighed again. "Well, I sure as hell am not. But no needs to delay this further; let's go."

* * *

Of course they hide Walker's body, before going inside.

And of course I'm late again because I've been playing Dragon Age. Thank Merlin I don't have any homework this week!

I had to enter that bloody underline below "Chapter 26" (at the top) in the HTML coding to get it to stick! **_WHY! _**


	27. December 30th

**Chapter 27**

Harry stared open-mouthed at the dome above their heads. Not that the building had looked small from the outside, but this… _this _was absurd. And incredibly awe-inspiring.

Dimmed yellow light seeped down at them from the two floors above, open towards the immense hallway through high, white pillars. Everything was made out of stone, decorated with spirals and embroiled patterns, and over his head stood the text _Kenneth E. Behring Family Rotunda_ in large, serif letters. Moonlight floated in through the large windows, crowning each of their respective arches, and from the circular one in the middle of the ceiling high up above. As Harry stared at it, he noticed the small triangles around it, enhancing the impression that there was a small, personal sun up there.

But, of course, most impressive was the large animal that stood placed in the middle of the circle on a pedestal of what looked like fake stone, an elephant. The very first elephant Harry had ever seen. He wasn't completely sure that it was stuffed and not a fake, but it sure looked like it had been running around on the savannah not five minutes ago.

Harry turned to Malfoy to share his amazement, but found that Malfoy looked completely indifferent.

"How can you _not _be amazed by all of this?" he hissed in Malfoy's ear.

"I am amazed; just not showing it," Malfoy said, "It can't look like I'm here for the first time, Potter,"

"Oh," Harry said, feeling stupid, "right…"

"Ey, Thomas, what are you doing inside?" a voice suddenly called, echoing in the large, empty room.

"I need some warmth, give me a break, I checked thoroughly outside first; not a soul out there." Malfoy called back, sounding impressively like the Thomas he was supposed to be.

They took a few steps towards where the voice had come from.

"Who's that?" the same voice asked as he spotted Harry. A man stepped out in the light.

"I'm Harry!" Harry said with a smile.

By the way Malfoy tensed beside him that was not what he should have done.

"Didn't I tell you?" Malfoy said, sounding honestly surprised, "He's the boss's nephew, apparently he's becoming one of us, so they sent him as an apprentice to me for this morning's shift."

Harry nodded enthusiastically to confirm that,

The guard laughed. "So Thomas, not only did you get stuck with another shift, you got an apprentice too, eh?" the man said in clear amusement. "No offence," he then added quickly.

"None taken," Harry ensured.

"I'm Alan," the man introduced himself with a smile and stretched out his hand.

"Harry," Harry said again, "My uncle has speaks very highly about you," Harry added after a moment's hesitation, but he'd figured that a little flattery wouldn't hurt.

Alan laughed, "Oh, I'm sure he has…"

Though Harry really didn't understand what the meant, he laughed with him.

"Well, Harry, aren't you a bit young to do this?"

"Thank you, but I'm a bit older than I look," Harry said, not daring to give the man an exact number in case he'd exaggerate too much. "And besides, my uncle has been really eager for me to do this, and well… my uncle is my uncle…"

Alan laughed again. "Yes, he certainly has a way to get his will through…"

"That he does," Harry agreed, thinking of his real uncle.

"Oh well," Alan said, apparently changing the subject, "I wouldn't want to scare of the newbie; I do want to retire someday. You take the inside tonight; Thompson should be here any minute anyway. But you'll owe me, Walker!" Alan threatened, already on his way out the door.

"Thank you!" Malfoy cried gratefully after him.

As the door shut behind the security guard, Malfoy turned to him.

"Well, that was the easy part."

Harry sighed. "Couldn't you say that the hardest part was done instead?"

"No, if I did that, I would be lying," Malfoy stated, beginning to move forwards.

Harry followed. They climbed two sets of stairs, re-entering the rotunda though on a new level, and Malfoy took a left by a large sign decorated with a diamond shape. They entered a large room, with pipes running all over the ceiling. The lights in the room were still on, thank Merlin, though those lighting up the exhibitions were off.

"Holy…" Harry managed to get out.

The lightings made the room look eerie; a feeling the large moon-rocks did nothing to diminish. The walls were covered with pictures from the moon, from volcanoes, from the depths of oceans and from space.

Harry, who had never even been close to a museum, wanted nothing more than to stay and not leave until he got to examine everything closely.

"Move, Potter, we have no time to marvel. We have no way of telling how long Voldemort's little trap is going to take." Malfoy said and grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him onwards, into a gigantic replica of the earth, whose entrance Harry hadn't even seen.

The next room was a little less impressive than the first; only displaying what looked like stones in general. Harry suspected that it might be a little more entertaining in daytime, judging by the large amount of black screens. Harry wondered what it all must've looked like to Malfoy, who had no knowledge about muggle culture.

They rushed through a beige room, filled with large stones in various shapes and colours, and into what in the semi-darkness looked like a real cave.

"The stones are beginning to get shiny and colourful," Malfoy said as he stopped for a second to examine a few blue rocks, "That must be a good sign."

"You don't know where we're going?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I know we're going to the Janet Annenberg Hooker Hall of Geology, Gems and Minerals, and I saw the diamond on the sign outside, so I figured that at least was a better shot than the whale," Malfoy said with a shrug.

Harry stopped dead and completely forgot his reply to Malfoy's sense of direction as they emerged from the tunnel, and walked into a large, open room.

"Are these even actual stones!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. All around them was stones in _literally _all shapes and colours, most of them looking like… well, to be honest, Harry didn't knew what to compare them to!

"I would think so," Malfoy replied, but didn't sound too sure himself.

They walked through the surreal landscapes of supposed stones, glittering and shining in the dim light. Some resembled metal, some Harry would have called gems, some… were just plain and simple _somethings. _

"Crap," Malfoy said suddenly, drawing Harry's attention just as a shiver went down the Slytherin's spine, "I'm beginning to change back,"

"Well good. I prefer it when you look like yourself," Harry said with a shrug.

"It's not good," Malfoy objected, "we don't know what kind of surveillance they're going to have in there."

"Cameras, probably," Harry said. "You can take them out with a stinging hex. I've tried it on plenty of my cousin's electronics and it has worked every time."

"I don't know who 'the electronics' are, but as long as you know how to deal with them, I'm fine," Malfoy said, without looking at him.

Harry snorted a bit in laughter, but didn't get out a comment before Malfoy suddenly pointed at a closed door.

"That's the way to the jewels." Malfoy declared.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked sceptically, "I mean, it's closed..."

"Yes, closed doors are usually the ones worth opening."

Harry was just about to say that closed doors were the only ones you _could_ open, but Malfoy walked away to examine the door before he got the chance.

"What is this?" Malfoy asked and pointed towards a large plate with a hand-shape over it. _Biometric Reader –_discreet, elegant letters read on the steel above the glass.

Without waiting for a reply, Malfoy put his hand inside of the markings. Before either of them had the chance to react, a green light flashed and a clicking noise came from the door, indicating that it was now open.

He met Malfoy's eyes; grey now, instead of Walker's brown.

"I'll go inside first," Harry said, "Under the cloak,"

Malfoy nodded, and Harry stuck his hand in his pocket. Through a handy spell Hermione had taught him, he now could keep the cloak in his pocket, and pull it out like one of those silly muggle wizards did at times.

He threw it over his head and turned to Malfoy for clearance.

"I can't see you. Now get in there before this door locks itself again, I'm not sure how that hand-thingy works, but I'm pretty sure I'm not enough Walker to do it again," Malfoy said impatiently.

Harry nodded – though Malfoy really had no way of seeing that – pushed down the door handle and pulled the door open.

* * *

Well, considering the stinging hex, I thought about it as something like a small jolt. An electrical current would kill the mechanics in the camera (if not, this magic current would! XD ). And, well, a vacuum can kill a computer, why wouldn't this work! XD

And I'm sorry if the muggle security was a bit underwhelming, and I am aware that the NMNH probably have higher security than that. But this is just about what I know of, that and the exaggerated stuff of television. And it really wasn't what I wanted to focus on, so…

And you probably can figure out where I have been for the last days; right here, in front of my 360. But fear not; the game is now over. And the ending was horrible (according to me), so I will probably pout 'til next Wednesday. (_If anyone knows how to get the Fenris romance to end well, please send a PM or a review._)

I am sad.

Sorry for the delay, but I hope you liked it. Until next time, everyone. (Which hopefully won't be that far away this time...)


	28. December, 30th

**Chapter 28**

Harry stepped into the room carefully, looking around.

Though the lights were dim, the lenses on the cameras caught light and reflected it. And Harry, who, being a seeker, was used to looking for a snitch on a Quidditch-field spotted them easily. He plucked the seven cameras he found easily with a stinging hex each. He felt a little bad about the vandalism, but figured it could've been a lot worse.

When he couldn't find any more cameras, he put a muffiliato on the room and put up some wards that hopefully would disturb remaining equipment enough to malfunction. With a sigh and a wish for some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder he went over to the door and let Malfoy in.

Malfoy slipped inside instantly and shut the door behind him.

Harry grabbed the cloak and pulled it off.

"I think that was everyone," Harry said, but Malfoy wasn't looking at him. He was looking over his shoulder.

Harry turned to see what was so interesting.

He hadn't really looked at the exhibits in the room before; his eyes had traveled along the edges of the ceiling, but now when he saw them he couldn't believe he hadn't spotted them before.

The whole room was glittering. Directly in front of them stood a large orb which was at least two feet in diameter, completely see-through and utterly flawless. Just next to his elbow stood a square yellow stone high on its pedestal, the sign beside it identifying it as a diamond.

So when Malfoy began to move around in the room, finally looking completely flabbergasted, Harry mindlessly followed.

The whole room was covered in gems so large that Harry would have thought it impossible. Earrings, rings, and, by Merlin, the necklaces… Well, if Harry were to be honest, it wasn't as much the necklaces in themselves that made Harry appreciate them; it was the way Malfoy looked when he watched them. The look of pure amazement in those grey eyes was familiar somehow, and held Harry's interest as if he had been enchanted.

Malfoy was currently marveling a necklace imbedded with green stones, with the text "_Designed for Spanish Royalty?" _beside it when something red in the corner of Harry's eye suddenly caught his attention.

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Malfoy…" he said, hesitantly touching the other man's shoulder, "I think I found it…"

Malfoy turned to him with his brow furrowed, as if he didn't quite understand what he was saying. Then his eyes widened and he spun around.

Inside the showcase, on a small clean-cut pedestal there stood a small box. Inside the box laid a platinum ring, with two triangular diamonds and a large ruby, red as blood.

"Well, that's definitely it," Malfoy said, and nodded slightly. "How do we get it?"

"Break the glass?" Harry suggested, "At least for starters."

Malfoy raised a skeptical eyebrow, but cast a spell at the glass anyway. As if it had been water, the glass bent in waves, but didn't break.

"Spelled to be unbreakable," Malfoy said dryly, "New plan."

"Take out the gold thing," Harry suggested, pointing at the golden frame around the showcase. "I bet that's what holds the glass in place,"

Malfoy looked at him in surprise. "Muggles need that to hold their windows in place? Don't they attach their windows magically?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I do hope you realize how stupid that sounds?"

Malfoy glared but raised his wand again. "Screw you, Potter, how do we do this?"

"You think we can pull it out with an Accio?" Harry suggested.

Malfoy eyed the frame. "It's only muggle attached; I'd say so,"

With a nod they raised their wands and coursed "_Accio!"_

A horrible creaking sound came from the frame as the magic pulled it forward, like if someone was trying to break a tree in half. It decreased slowly, until it completely stopped, and for a moment Harry thought that it would withstand their magic. But then it suddenly came loose with an unnaturally loud _bang, _crashing to the floor. Harry reflexively jumped away from the glass his unconscious expected to come flying. But only a ripple went through the glass, leaving it intact.

"Not that I know much about muggles, but that has got to have triggered _something. _We can't have much time," Malfoy said grimly.

Harry nodded as an agreement, and reached for the ring.

"No!" Malfoy bellowed, but Harry didn't have time to react.

A surge of magic exploded from the ring, throwing both Harry and Malfoy up in the air and away. Harry landed luckier than Malfoy; only sliding away towards the large flawless sphere in the corner, whilst the Slytherin slammed straight into a brass plate holding a picture of Janet Annenberg. Harry scrambled to his feet almost before the blast was over, and rushed to Malfoy's side.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down and examining Malfoy closely for injuries.

"My back hit it first, thank Merlin, so I didn't crack my head if that's what you're asking," Malfoy said, squinting up at him. "I thought you said that we shouldn't do anything unless we both agreed to it?"

Harry blushed. "You said we were in a hurry."

"A hurry to get away, not a hurry to get blasted into a marble wall," Malfoy said, and gripped Harry's outstretched hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

Though Malfoy tried to pull away, Harry didn't want to let go of his hand just yet. "Are you sure you are okay?" he persisted.

"Yes, damn it, Potter. And if I'm not, I'll have to hold it against you later; we need to get that ring and get out of here now."

Realizing that Malfoy probably was right, Harry reluctantly let go of his hand and turned to look what had happened to the ring after the blast.

Nothing, it seemed, except that the box was now closed.

"Let _me_ do this, this time. Merlin, I can't believe that you're still alive after hunting down all those Horcruxes acting like this…"

Harry shrugged, but Malfoy had already crossed the room and was examining the box with various spells.

"Strange…" he muttered.

"What?" Harry asked, walking to Malfoy's side.

"There's no curses on the area around the box; not even any on it. The only thing I can actually find is some sort of locking-spell I've never seen before. One should just be able to take it and leave…" Malfoy said, puzzled.

"Should I try that, then?" Harry asked carefully, not wanting Malfoy to lash out on him, calling him stupid.

"I'll do it," Malfoy said to his surprise, and reached out towards it.

Before he could reach it, Harry threw himself forward and pushed his hand out of the way, laying his hand on the box first.

Malfoy stared at him with a surprised look, and Harry started to feel rather stupid when absolutely nothing happened.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

Harry blushed. "I _do _have some experience with Voldemort related stuff, and I know that you usually don't want to be the first to touch his things…"

"So why did you do just that?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Because I didn't want anything to happen to you," Harry replied truthfully.

"You moron; I told you nothing would happen," Malfoy said, but smiled surprisingly softly. "Grab that and we'll leave, we can crack the lock later."

So Harry tried to lift the box. _Tried_ being the key word. It didn't even budge, putting up unnaturally powerful resistance for something so small.

"I can't lift it," Harry said in surprise. "It's stuck."

Malfoy's brow furrowed. "What do you mean you can't lift it? Stop being silly, Potter, we need to leave," Malfoy said, and stepped around the glass to take the box from Harry's hand. But Malfoy couldn't lift it either.

Their widened eyes met in surprise.

"We'll have to open it here, and take only the ring with us," Malfoy said.

"But how do we open it? An _alohomora _would be to obvious, right?"

"It's at least worth a try," Malfoy said with a nod for him to do it. So Harry cast the spell, but as expected, nothing happened.

A feeling of hopelessness started to grow inside Harry, rapidly spreading through his body. A lock. Brilliant. There were locks all over the world in countless numbers, and each had a key that only fitted them. Just like this one. One key. How were they supposed to find that one?

"This won't work…" Harry said, shaking his head, "This will never work. We'll just have to leave before anyone comes and come back when we've got the key to open this thing…"

This time it was Malfoy who shook his head. "No. If we leave and come back there will be guards. They will see what we were trying to steal thanks to the glass, and there will be guards. Here, probably. It's possible that one muggle fell asleep but someone will notice if it happens again. They will suspect magic," Malfoy said, still staring at the box. "We need to get this now."

"How! We don't have the key! It's impossible!"

Finally Malfoy's eyes averted from the box, and he smiled a very Slytherin smile. "Remember what I said, Potter; the task will be seemingly impossible. We will find the key. Voldemort might have managed to keep his mouth shut about this so far, but once someone was here the damage would already be done; he wouldn't be able to keep himself from gloating or at least taunt a little. Visible, of course, only to those who knew they had a reason to be taunted."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Do you think he used magic here just to taunt those who tried to steal his ring?"

The grin slowly slipped of Malfoy's lips as he mused, "No. Something simpler. Something someone wouldn't notice anyway…" His eyes lifted to study the box again.

Harry stared at it too, wondering how on earth they were going to get through this. Suddenly the plate behind the ring caught his attention.

"Like words?" Harry suggested, now his turn to grin.

"Words…" Malfoy said softly, seeing the plate. "Words."

Harry merely watched as Malfoy studied the sentences, his lips moving as he read, as usual. Almost unconsciously Harry took a step closer, mentally blaming the need to vanish Voldemort ever-present presence further.

"Those words," Malfoy suddenly said and pointed.

Harry followed his hand to the sentence and read it out loud.

"'Love was our special magic. No one will ever be able to take this from me.'" Harry raised his eyebrows, "How is that Voldemort?"

Malfoy grinned. "Not only does he brag and taunt, he also tells us how to do this. Scratch the two first words and replace 'our' with 'my'," Malfoy explained.

"My special magic. No one will ever be able to take this from… oh…" Harry said as he understood. "He locked it with his own magic, and no one will be able to open it. And thus, no one will be able to take it from him."

Malfoy smiled, "Exactly."

"I don't think that's a reason to smile," Harry said with a frown.

"Oh, but _someone _can open it," Malfoy said. "Don't you remember how this thing works?"

Harry's eyes widened as he realized what Malfoy meant. "Voldemort transfers his soul and magic to me. If I can reach Voldemort's magic and direct it I can…" Harry fell silent as he realized the heftiness of such an attempt. "But Malfoy, we don't have Voldemort's wand!"

"Doesn't matter."

Harry stared wide eyed at Malfoy. "Are you crazy! Few can knowingly use and control their _own _magic without their wand!"

"But you can," Malfoy said, grey eyes serious.

Harry's hands went up to his hair in frustration. "My _own _magic! I can do whatever I want with it because it's _mine!" _Harry burst.

"You can do it," Malfoy said calmly.

Suddenly they heard voices, far away. Security; they didn't have much time. Certainly not enough time for this.

"You can do it," Malfoy simply said again.

"I can't!" Harry burst, trying to keep himself from screaming. Malfoy simply looked at him.

"You have to."

Desperation gnawed at Harry's insides. "You know I can't. I can't let him loose. There's people coming, I can hurt them!" he protested.

"You won't," Malfoy said, calm as ever.

Harry couldn't help himself. He took a step forward and grabbed Malfoy's arm. "But what if I hurt _you _then?" he asked desperately, voicing his real concern.

Finally Malfoy looked a little surprised. But "I trust you," was all he said before he walked away to a nearby room, probably to make it easier for Harry to reach Voldemort.

Harry wasn't grateful. This was dangerous. This was insane. His hands shook at the memory of when he'd tried to cut Malfoy's heart out.

The voices grew closer.

He couldn't do this. The risks were too great.

"Harry."

His head snapped up at the use of his given name. His anxious eyes met Malfoy's steady ones.

"You need to do this."

He closed his eyes, wishing that that wasn't true, but nodded.

Staring at the ruby he concentrated. At first, he didn't really know at what, but then he started to grasp the pieces of Voldemort he constantly felt inside of him. One by one, collecting them. More and more Voldemort and less and less Harry filled his head. It was frightening to grow… _smaller _in that way, but he didn't have a choice. _They _didn't have a choice.

"_Hello, Potter, long time no see…" _Voldemort's amused voice said in his mind. Though startled, he ignored it.

Somehow knowing what he was looking for, he began grasping pieces of Voldemort he recognized as magic. Prepared for a fight, he was surprised – and unsettled – to find that Voldemort put up no resistance. Expecting his confusion to at least be taunted he grew even more uneasy when Voldemort stayed silent.

Feeling his concentration slip, he quickly dismissed it as a coincidence, ignoring the lack of reason behind such a conclusion.

For each string he collected he felt the magic clearer and clearer inside of him, now close to useable. His whole body trembled, his palms were sweaty and his head was spinning. A dark chuckle rang in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes to shut it out. He closed them to shut _everything_ out.

As he caught a last piece of magic, white exploded inside his head, causing him to cry out; to scream in pain, despite the knowledge that people were drawing near. Opening his slightly tear-filled eyes he focused at the small box, stretching out his heavily shaking hand. It felt as if fire was shooting through his arm as the magic left him; just as burning and just as uncontrollable. Blinking away the wetness in his eyes he stared harder at the small box, focusing, _aiming, _the magic. His cry turned in to mumbled nonsense, but not in English. The parseltongue words slipped of his tongue, and his ears heard the hissing but it was as if he wasn't able to translate it. Now. It needed to open _now; _Harry couldn't hold out much longer. His eyes widened in surprise as the lock on the box suddenly sprang open as if it had listened to his plea.

"_Thank you, Harry Potter; this will make things so much easier. For me, that is." _Voldemort's smug voice said as yet another explosion like feeling pierced his head, making it feel like it would split in two from the sheer pressure coming from inside of him.

Thinking that at least he had managed this, his knees gave in and his world went black


	29. January 2nd 1999

**Chapter 29**

Harry opened his eyes with a groan. Not that it did him much good; wherever he was it was pitch-black whether his eyes were open or not.

His head was pounding furiously with his heartbeats, making him wish that he had stayed asleep a little longer.

_Asleep?_

He was standing up in a very small area; narrow, but wide enough for him to stretch out his arms in both directions.

"_A closet?" _his confused mind concluded, _"Why in Merlin's name would Malfoy leave me in a closet?" _

It felt like he had been out for days, but Malfoy certainly wasn't in here; something that troubled him.

Through the pounding in his head, he had a hard time figuring out what was the last thing he remembered. The memories seemed jumbled and it was close to impossible to tell in which order they had occurred. Then a clear image appeared in his exhausted mind; a memory of Malfoy clothed in a muggle suit, hair combed back, turning to face him, looking completely astounding.

Holy Merlin! The Smithsonian! The ring! There had been people coming and Harry had been screaming, and…! Merlin, was he in _jail! _They didn't have time for this! And Voldemort! Had he hurt someone? Had he hurt _Malfoy? _

He started banging furiously on the doors to the closet, hoping that someone – preferably a healthy Malfoy – was close enough to hear him, wherever he was.

Suddenly the previously locked doors fell open, causing Harry to fall out and land on his hands and knees. He lifted his hand to block the light from what he assumed was a window and squinted hard in the bright light in the room, having grown accustomed to the darkness. The fierce pounding in his head grew even worse.

He could vaguely perceive the outlines of a man, sitting on the floor with a book in his hand beside a bed.

"Oh, so you're awake finally. Good," Malfoy said and looked up briefly at him, before returning his attention to the book. Thankfully, he didn't sound like he was in any sort of distress, though Harry couldn't see him to confirm that.

Harry unsteadily got to his feet and found his way to the bed, sitting down. He rubbed his eyes, tears having formed in them from all the stinging light.

"Are you all right, Malfoy, did I hurt you?" Harry asked, concerned. Blinking like mad as he tried to look at Malfoy.

"Don't be an idiot, Potter, of course you didn't hurt me. I _can _defend myself, you know," Malfoy said dryly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "How long have I been out?" he asked. "What day is it?"

"Saturday, January the second 1999. Congratulations; you missed New Year's," Malfoy said.

"But we left for Washington the 30th! That was three days ago!" Harry burst, wiping away the tears to be able to shot an at least half-proper look of horrification Malfoy's way.

"I'm in awe of your math-skills, Potter," Malfoy said, flipping a page.

Finally his eyes adjusted enough for him to be able to look around. He didn't recognize their surroundings in the slightest. They seemed to be in some sort of hotel room, judging by the impersonal furniture. And if the tell-tale sign of total lack of electricity was anything to go by, it was a wizard one.

"Where are we?" he asked, turning his eyes to Malfoy.

The blond didn't look up. "In an unplottable hotel in Virginia. I've been here before with my mother, so I apparated us here. I didn't know what such a long travel by portkey would do to you in your state, so I didn't really have another choice than finding a place for us to stay."

"In my state? What do you mean?" Harry asked warily.

Finally Malfoy looked up. "After you-" Malfoy cut himself off with a cry as he scrambled to his feet, grasping his wand on his way up. Harry was startled to find it pointing straight at him when Malfoy was on his feet.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing!" Harry demanded in alarm, crawling backwards in the large bed to avoid potential spells. Gripping at his pockets for his wand he found nothing.

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise, but the wand pointing at him was still steady. It was also a wand Harry very much recognized, he suddenly realized.

"Why are you using _my _wand, Malfoy!" When he made an attempt to reach out to grip _his_ weapon, Malfoy shot a stinging hex at him, causing him to jump back again.

"Stay back," Malfoy ordered.

Now it was Harry's eyes that widened. Had he imagined things, or hadn't they had a perfectly civil conversation just now? What in Merlin's name had happened that Harry had missed since then?

"Is it _you, _Potter?" Malfoy asked with narrowed eyes.

"Are you mental!" Harry burst. "If I were Voldemort, don't you think I'd just attacked you instead of starting up some chit-chat!"

Malfoy didn't lower his wand. _Harry's _wand.

"It's _me!"_ Harry persisted.

"Prove it." Malfoy demanded.

"How! Voldemort has access to all my memories anyway!" Harry cried, not sure if he was infuriated or desperate.

Malfoy just glared.

"Fine. I asked you to run if Voldemort took me over. Your legs, however, are traitorously still despite the fact that you apparently think I'm not me, so I guess I'll have to find another way to hold you to that promise," Harry grumbled. "And _why _do you think I'm Voldemort anyway!"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then he finally tucked away his wand and took Harry's wrist, pulling him to his feet.

"I'll show you," Malfoy said dragging him into a rather large bathroom and placing him in front of a mirror.

Harry turned his head to Malfoy in confusion, but he only gripped Harry's shoulders and nodded to the mirror.

So Harry turned around.

His torso was still clothed in the now wrinkled shirt he had left in, though his jacket obviously was someplace else.

"_I really need to change…_" Harry though, wondering how Malfoy even could stand being close to him. _Three days _in a_ wardrobe. _How he must _smell…! _

A very slight stubble had begun showing around the edges of his jaw and on his chin from the lack of any kind of shaving; magical or not. He drew his hand over it, displeased at the rough feeling.

His hair was even more of a tousled mop than usual, standing up in all directions imaginable; and probably a few more.

"So I look like crap, and you think I'm Voldemort?" Harry asked dryly, meeting Malfoy's eyes in the mirror.

A grin quirked the corners of Malfoy's lips before he could compose himself. "Actually, I think you look rather sexy… well, one little detail aside, that is…" Malfoy admitted, and the grin was instantly gone.

Harry did not only _feel _himself blush scarlet, he saw it in the mirror too. Malfoy thought he was _sexy? _That was a new one…

He jumped almost a mile when he suddenly spotted what had gotten a similar reaction out of Malfoy. _That_ probably was the detail he had mentioned. His hand reflexively flew back to grab Malfoy's hip; as a warning or a plea for support he didn't know.

Staring wildly back at him in the mirror wasn't his own green eyes.

He lifted his other hand to his face to touch it, just to make sure it was his own image in the mirror. Blinking, almost sure it would go away, he leaned closer.

And, behind his familiar spectacles, Voldemort's red eyes looked back.

*ϟ*ϟ*

~DPOV~

Draco sat miserably in the dry bathtub, trying desperately to focus on his book.

After Potter had calmed a little from his – understandable, really – freak-out having his own green eyes replaced with Voldemort's red ones, he had demanded a shower.

And who was Draco to deny him?

So he had left the bathroom, giving Potter his privacy. But as soon as he had shut the door, Potter had cried out in anguish. Which lead to that Draco had torn the door open so harshly again that he almost thought it would rip its hinges out.

Potter was most definitely not going to be left alone anytime soon. And much to Draco's horror, that included the bathroom.

He had been horrified – just as Potter had – to find that the shower was entirely out of glass. Clear and very much see-through glass. Draco hadn't given it much thought when he had showered while Potter was out, but now…

As it turned out, though, it wasn't as big of a problem as they had first thought, because as soon as Potter stepped into the shower, the area around his groin instantly frosted over, shielding it completely.

And the reason to why Draco knew that _was not _that he had peeked. Not at all.

Draco, who originally loved the mandatory spells on every glass area in a bathroom that caused them not to fog over, now wished nothing more than to have them cursed to oblivion. Or maybe praised even higher. He hadn't made up his mind just yet.

The shower was placed at the end of the bathtub, just by his feet. And in the shower stood Harry Potter, naked in all his glory.

And the book really wasn't good enough to hold Draco's attention for a longer amount of time. Not with _that _as competition.

Potter's head was leant back under the spray, eyes closed, water running down mixing with soap and shampoo on his naked torso. Streams of water were running down his brow, sticking briefly in his long lashes and then continued down his cheeks and nose. Running down even further, flowing over his slightly parted pink lips and down his jaw. Draco had never found body-hair very appealing, but the stubble shadowing Harry's jaw just made him want to… _touch it._

Draco's eyes followed the water town Potter's throat, dripping rapidly from his pointed Adam's apple, and down to his broad shoulders, pooling only slightly at the hollow of his collarbones. And then… _then…_ down to his stomach and chest. The golden skin rippled by not-too-evident muscles.

Suddenly Potter lifted his hands to his jet-black hair, dragging his fingers through it, waking an immense urge in Draco to do the same. And also giving Draco an even better view. Even the Gryffindor's arms were a thing to marvel; thin but muscled, creating exquisite curves that had Draco itching to run his hands along them. Or even rather; have them wrapped around his own body.

Potter turned slowly, facing the wall instead of having his back to it, placing his hands on the black tile. The book slipped out of Malfoy's hands at the sight.

Potter's back looked like silk, warm and smooth, causing Draco's hands to twitch with the need to touch it. It was like a landscape; raised by Potter's evident shoulder blades, evened out, and then only slightly lowered by his spine.

Draco swallowed thickly as his gaze went lower. The muscular curve of the top of Harry's rear was just visible above the frosted glass.

Without any warning, Potter suddenly turned off the shower and pulled the towel of the top of the glass, stepping out.

Wrapping the white cloth around his waist he turned to Draco. "Are you coming?" he asked, nodding towards the main room.

"Yes." Draco said hoarsely. "I'll be right behind you."

Cursing his own choice of words, he stood up and climbed out of the bathtub stiffly, careful to hold his book steady for coverage.

* * *

My, oh my; this didn't go as planned. I had something serious and adventure-y for this chapter, originally. Seems like watching Harry shower was more arous-… hrm, er… _interesting_.

That last part was just about 290 words purely my – if I might say so myself; very drool-able – fantasy. I do apologize. ;)

And, I'm sorry, but I've watched _Top Gear _all day, and that part _does_ look ridiculous with their British accent and voices. All I keep hearing is Jeremy Clarkson's voice in my head… Not very sexy…

And I'm sorry (again) I haven't updated as frequently as I used too, but we're closing in on me not having any more chapters, so I decided I preferred even updates, even though they are further apart. But *spoiler* there's not much left now, so don't worry. ;)

Gah, it's even more delayed now; fanfiction have totally been screwing me over for almost a week now; I haven't been able to add chapters to my stories! And I've wanted you guys to read this chapter so badly! The only reason to that I'm able to update now is that the lovely ayjayssis mailed a solution to me. She will have my undying thanks. If I could, I would stuff a naked Harry Potter in her shower too. (or is it only me that would be delighted for such a thing?)

I hope you enjoyed it, despite delays!

Until next time, everyone, hopefully taking place in a close future.


	30. January 2nd

**Chapter 30**

_Continuation of DPOV ~_

Draco sat on the bed and stared intensely at the letters, probably so intensely that the pages would catch fire any minute.

_You mustn't use the largest fork for the lettuce and cucumber; neither the soup shall be dined with this utility. Use instead the left hand spoon and knife to… _

Draco was well aware that his breathing was ragged, and that his hands were shaking, and that the book in his lap, telling him that eating soup with a large fork wasn't a good idea, was complete rubbish. Also, he was well aware that Potter was dripping wet in only a towel, just a few feet to his left.

"Have you seen my trousers?" Potter asked, looking around.

Draco summoned them without looking up, and transformed them into a pair of jeans similar to a pair he knew Potter preferred. Despite not even close to looking his way, he was momentarily blinded by the brightness of Potter's grateful smile.

"Thanks!"

"No problem," Draco muttered.

And there. _There. _He made his fatal move. For a brief second he looked up from his – thankfully not-yet burning – pages to… To do what, he didn't know, actually. It was just a slip up; the movement of his eyes just resumed normal not-naked conversation mode. And _looked_. And _saw. _Saw Potter drop the towel to the floor, calmly unbutton the jeans, and put them on.

Draco's chin crashed to the floor faster than any broom that had lost its levitation spell, the pounding of his racing heart put the wing-beats of a pixie to shame and his cheeks burned like ashwinder eggs. But he couldn't imagine he was blushing; not because the idea was preposterous in itself, but because his blood was heading in another direction entirely.

"_UNDERWEAR, POTTER, UNDERWEAR!" _his outraged mind was _screaming, _but his mouth only managed to form an intelligent "…bah…"

He was still stuttering nonsense when Potter sat beside him on the bed, and put a warm hand on his knee as his brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay, Malfoy? You look a bit flushed."

"_AND A SHIRT!"_

Slamming his book shut maybe just _a bit _too loudly, he replied with a voice that maybe was _a bit _high pitched: "I'm fine."

Potter looked nothing like convinced, and leaned closer. Determined to convince Potter, he met his eyes.

His red, Voldemort-y, somewhat _evil _eyes, nothing alike the brilliant green that usually was on display for Draco to admire. At least good for something, they immediately… _killed_ Draco's problem_. _

"I'm _fine _Potter." He said, with more determination in his voice this time, and put the book aside, promptly proceeding to summon Potter's shirt and stuff it in his hand.

"While there appears to be no cure for your bloody _unhealthy_ lack of modesty," Draco said grimly, and watched as Potter blushed and pulled the still-buttoned shirt over his head, "I do hope we can do something for those red eyes of yours."

Potter looked away and touched his temple lightly. "I hope so, too…"

Softening a little, he almost put a hand on Potter's legs to offer support, but before his hands could so much _twitch_ he remembered the lack of clothing under those trousers.

"_Better keep my hands to myself…" _

"We'll get there, Potter, quit being so melodramatic," he said instead, as nonchalantly as he could muster, doing his best to make it sound like a given matter instead of one of uncertainty. "Now, do you want to know what happened when you fainted or not? I do suppose that was what you were going to ask me about before I nearly spelled you into oblivion and you decided to take a shower…?"

"When you put it like that, the shower sounds very silly…" Potter protested, but Draco noted that the corners of his lips were twitching.

"_Cheered up then, are we…?" _he thought, pleased with having pulled Potter out of his distress.

"Not at all; it was very necessary." Draco protested to the Gryffindor's statement. _Very necessary _maybe had been a bit of exorbitance; Draco did not believe that Harry Potter could smell truly _bad, _but a pure Potter-essence was to be preferred over long-since-shut-wardrobe mixed with wet-overcoat mixed with Potter-essence.

Potter seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Why did you lock me inside that wardrobe?"

"Because Voldemort was rampaging in here before I did so. And I chose the wardrobe because, besides the bathroom, it's the only thing you can confine someone in, in here. And, like you have proved twice by now, the bathroom holds potential weapons. The only thing Voldemort could do to hurt you in there is bang your head against the wall, and I would have heard that. And, besides, it's the only space small enough for me to out a proper anti-magic spell over," Malfoy said with a shrug.

"I-… What happened?" Potter asked, looking pained again. No doubt for causing imaginary trouble and/or harm. Moron.

Draco sighed. "Not much, really, you just sort of… _dropped _at the museum. You were like that for a day, moving only slightly and speaking total nonsense on occasion…" Draco decided it was best not to worry Potter with the fact that the nonsense had been in parseltongue. "Since you apparently weren't dying, and you decided before we left that it was better to put yourself in unnecessary danger than to _worry _people I figured that you wouldn't like me taking you to a hospital. That, and the fact that no one there would know what to do with Voldemort either; especially should he have decided that taking over your body while you weren't home was a good idea. Which he did the yesterday, of course."

"I don't understand, what happened?" Potter asked and shook his head, "I mean, I understand _what _happened, but _why?" _

Draco shrugged. "I can't say for sure, seeing as the only study material I have is that book which tells you that you should eat salad and cucumber with spoon and knife," he said and pointed, "But I have to be at least moderately right, seeing as I managed to solve this mess for you."

Draco was temporarily distracted as Potter moved closer in order not to fall off the edge of the mattress. So close that their thighs touched briefly and all Draco's mind for a moment was able to produce was _no underwear. _

"Er... Yes. You see, that little box you cracked open was charmed with a heavy magic shield. You remember I told you that rubies have shielding properties, right? Well, they probably aren't nearly strong enough. So, in order to make sure that you can't kill Voldemort with your head, he has to have added protection. Unfortunately – for him, that is – that works both ways, meaning that the spell that he put on the box also shielded you from him, lessening the effects he had on you. And when you broke that seal, which you did as soon as you unlocked the box itself, your mind simply overflowed, leading to that you fainted and eventually to that Voldemort took over. And since we don't want this to happen, I have managed to put up some… provisional spells on the ring itself, but I'm afraid they aren't nearly as powerful as the boxes was. There was something with that lock that added the strength and I haven't been able to figure out just how that works yet."

"Draco," Potter said with a smile.

Draco's eyebrows shot up under his hair at the use of his name. He wondered briefly if it was a retort for when he had called Potter 'Harry' at the museum. It had been a slip up. Slip-ups weren't supposed to happen; that's why he called Potter 'Potter' in his head all the time.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Have anyone told you that you are rather brilliant?"

Draco couldn't stop the grin that was spreading over his lips. "Might have heard it at some point, yes, but thank you, Potter."

Despising his mission of revealing bad news even more than when he had started explaining, he paused reluctantly, feeling the smile die on his face. He wanted so badly to tell Potter that he had solved everything, that there would be no more trouble for him to endure, but seeing as that wasn't the case, that wasn't an option.

"We have a problem, though," Draco confessed darkly. "You remember before we left, you said that Voldemort was uncomfortably silent; like we were playing him straight into his hands? Well…" Draco rubbed his eyes, uncertain of how he should say it; clear, non-wrapped, but not we-failed-there's-not-a-chance-that-you're-going-to-survive-brutal. "I thought it was a bit suspicious. We got there, and there were no traps. Nothing. We broke through a rather meek defense to find the box rather difficult to open. But not impossible. For anyone else it would have been impossible. But not for you; the only person he _should _want to protect himself from. He knew how the spellwork of this transference works; he knew that his magic would transfer into your body. This means the he was _deliberately_ giving you the spare key. Which leads to the inevitable question: why?" Draco paused again.

"This is not going to be good, is it?" Potter asked, looking rather like he wanted to cover his ears and run out the room just to be spared this piece of information.

"Not particularly." Draco admitted. "The only reason I can see for this course of action is that Voldemort _knew_. He knew that you could handle wandless magic, and therefore knew that you would be able to control _his_ magic, eventually. But he also knew that you wouldn't be able to do this before he had manifested himself rather deep in you, making him strong. And you… well, not so much. He _knew _that when you were able to crack the lock, you wouldn't be able to kill him; he would have grown too strong. And _vóilà_, as you found his hiding and potentially took one step towards killing him; his disadvantages disappeared, giving him basically untrammeled access to your head. He has pulled out the second-… Heck, _we _pulled out the second part of his plan, and all the disadvantages are on our side."

Draco felt like that wasn't only we-failed-there's-not-a-chance-that-you're-going-to-survive-brutal; it felt like he might as well have been pushing Potter off a very high cliff.

* * *

A Ridiculously long one, this time, I'm afraid. Harry and Draco of course can't know how the lock on the box works (and they don't need to; the only need to know how to open it), but that doesn't mean that you can't know. So I'm going to explain this to you. If you'd like to read it, that is.  
You see, in order not to cause suspicion (like Malfoy mentioned, this whole operation is based upon being nondescript) Voldemort needed a lock that didn't react on the muggles that inevitably needed to touch it. So, the lock on the box is only activated when magic is present. This, of course, doesn't stop a muggle thief from taking it. So, the box and the glass (much like the vial on Harry's necklace) are spelled to be unbreakable. And, of course, with the glass. A muggle wouldn't have been able to pull that frame out.

This would seldom cause any disturbance, seeing as the glass by muggle standards probably would be unbreakable, too (and I hardly believe that the Smithsonian would complain, had they known about it). Another thing with the glass; it's magic proof. Not until it's opened/broken (which is needed to take the ring) the "magic sensor" on the box reacts and slams it shut. This prevents an eventual wizard-visitor from triggering the whole security system…  
Hope this at least makes somewhat sense to you! And I do hope that I at least covered all the obvious flaws.  
And just to clarify; I had thought about all of this before. It was planned. But as I wrote the scene, I realized that writing in all this would be extremely awkward. I don't know why Harry and Draco should waste time on such a trivial thing as to find out how the lock works in detail when all they need to do is break it.  
The box will be more thoroughly explained in chapters to come. ;)

Also: Peter & Carmen Lucia Buck was the original owners of the Carmen Lucia ring (give them a google if you want their true – and quite sweet – story). I choose Rosales for their fictional surname because it means _rose _and I found the shade of the ruby to be quite alike one (and my favorite YouTube:er bears the name of Emile Rosales). The reason to why I choose to change their names was out of respect, but I wanted to mention them both to show gratitude and give them their earned credit for donating the priceless jewel to the Smithsonian.  
Even though this is a simple fic, I felt wrong pointing fingers and making (though purely fictional) accusations. Of course neither was a minion to the Dark Lord, if you thought so... well, let's just say I'm worried.  
And; there's no box. The ring is on display like any other.  
I can see how it would be more logical to let them use aliases when they "donated" the ring (in the story),  
but that would simply screw things up and, really, fill no deeper purpose.  
And, to those whose powers of Google are more extensive than others; yes, I know the exhibition of the Carmen Lucia ruby didn't start until 2004, but believe me when I tell you this; I looked very hard to find the right stone. It took me years (and quite a few books on symbolism) to decide on a ruby, let alone this one! And to find a view of a museum and how it looked in 1998 when there barely weren't any internet…! No, you'll have to settle with the more correct description of the museum and have him donate the ring six years early.

I'm sorry that I dumped all of that on you now, but I didn't want to spoil it earlier, and neither did I want to wait any longer.

And I really should just start to write stuff instead of adding them here, shouldn't I? Well, you learn from your mistakes, don't you? I have learned that an adventure fic might need a lot of explaining. -.-'  
If you need more, just contact me and I'll try to fill in your blanks. :)

And with this, ladies and... well, even more ladies, I have passed half a million words on !


	31. January 2nd Saturday

**Chapter 31**

_HPOV~ (just to be clear)_

Harry felt like the bottom of his stomach had fallen out.

They had walked straight in to Voldemort's trap. Which wasn't really a trap; because the existence of a _trap_ implied that there were options. And well, maybe there were; finding that gem and dying quickly, or not finding the gem and possibly dying a bit slower.

Why was it that Harry's future, the horizon of his life, was constantly shrouded in a black mass of clouds with no apparent way of getting through?

They had returned to England; to the manor and the trip had been absolutely _horrid _on Harry. He hadn't felt what a completely sane person would call… well, _living_, before they'd left. But when they arrived…

Poor Malfoy practically had to carry him up the stairs and into his room. They could only thank Merlin that Lucius hadn't been there to witness the act. Harry suffered from a heavy ague, his heart had been racing, he'd felt too hot, his eyelids fell shut all the time, and he had an unexplainable ache over all of his body. And finally Malfoy wasn't _practically _carrying Harry; he _was_ carrying him. Casting a weightlessness-spell on Harry, he had picked him up easily.

And Harry must've fallen asleep right there in Malfoy's arms, because one moment he was being carried up a staircase and in the next he had opened his eyes and looked straight up at Malfoy's familiar ceiling.

He had recovered a bit by now, and had actually managed to sit up in the bed. But with the feeling of being overtaken by madman dulled, he got the chance to _think_ about that he was being overtaken by a madman. That, of course, lead to the unpleasant feeling of knowing that you had stomped headlong into a trap, mixed with the knowledge of that you really hadn't been given a choice.

Malfoy seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry. "We couldn't have done anything else, Potter," he said.

Harry shook his head. "I know. Doesn't make it any less annoying, though, does it?"

Malfoy chuckled darkly. "I suppose not."

He sighed a bit in relief as Malfoy sat down beside him on the bed. Harry moved closer almost automatically.

He groaned when he realized he had, and nothing really had happened. "I feel like shit," he confessed quietly, "we need to kill it."

He looked up at Malfoy, and saw him flinch yet again at the sight of Harry's red eyes.

Then something strange happened. First compassion moved over Malfoy's face, but it passed quickly. What it left in its wake was the truly curious. Desperation mixed with what looked like complete devastation glazed Malfoy's widened eyes, and suddenly his hand gripped Harry's shoulder so hard it almost hurt.

Malfoy shook his head. "I can't stand having you die on me, Harry."

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say. Malfoy had always seemed so certain, like the possibility of failure didn't exist. Now… Harry didn't know what to do. Malfoy had said almost the same thing before, but back then it had been almost an assurance, like he wouldn't _allow _Harry to die.

The silver eyes drilling into his were unsettling. He wanted so badly to see Malfoy back to his usual self, wanted to promise him that of course he wouldn't die, that he would solve everything and all would be fine.

But he couldn't.

All Harry could get out in the end was, "Then we have to kill it."

Malfoy closed his eyes, sighed, and turned his head away. "How?" he asked.

Yes, _how? _Harry had no clue. The horcruxes had been a nightmare to get rid of, and Harry had little doubt that this would prove to be even harder.

No, he couldn't keep comparing it to the horcruxes. The only thing they had been sure of for quite some time now was that it _wasn't _a horcrux. It wouldn't be killed in the same way.

So really, who said it had to be as complicated…?

"Do you think I can use the killing curse?" Harry asked finally.

Malfoy turned to him with his brow furrowed and let go of his shoulder as if burned.

"What?"

"On the ring I mean. Smashing it will hardly do anything, but magic, maybe that will work," Harry said, still figuring out the details of his theory, "I mean, it's your magic, your blood, that helps me repel Voldemort. This whole thing has been about magic. Why wouldn't magic be able to kill it?"

Malfoy stared out into thin air as he thought about it. Harry studied his face carefully as he waited for the verdict.

Finally, Malfoy nodded. "Yes… yes, it's at least worth a try."

Harry lit up and stood. "Well, let's do it then!"

"Now?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes, why not?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought… never mind." Malfoy shook his head. "Do you know how you… perform it?"

Harry's cheery mood disappeared instantly. In his joy of finding a possible solution he had forgotten that he'd actually had to go through with it. But he couldn't give up without trying.

Fumbling a bit, he pulled out his wand. "No. How?"

Malfoy sighed and stood as well, rubbing his hand over his eyes he said, "Think of what you really want to accomplish with this spell, hold on to that thought. Think of _why _you want it. Do not blink, do not hesitate, and do not think of anything else."

Harry swallowed, but nodded to Malfoy to get the ring.

Harry didn't really know where he had expected the ring to be kept, but he was a bit surprised when Malfoy un-ceremonially pulled it out from the left pocket of his jeans and placed it on the nightstand. Clearing it from the books and glass that stood there, he nodded back at Harry and backed away. "Do as I said and it will work."

So Harry tried. He raised his wand and stared at the ring, at Voldemort, trying to conjure all the reasons to why he wanted him gone; the threat he was to Malfoy, the threat to everyone else, the threat to himself.

But he couldn't. All he managed to think about was that he was going to _kill_ someone. Someone that already was dead, really, but he still couldn't bring himself to _want _it. He didn't _want _to kill. Not Voldemort, not anyone.

"I can't do it," he said, and lowered his wand.

There was a small sense of regret in the pit of his stomach as he continued to stare at the ring. He shook his head and clenched his wand in his hand. He couldn't do it.

"Is this Voldemort or you talking?" Malfoy asked.

He looked over at the blond and shook his head again. "It's me. I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

Malfoy smiled a little. "No need to apologize, Potter, I would be rather disappointed if you _could_ do it, actually."

"But now we will have to find another way to kill him," Harry said.

Malfoy looked somewhat pensive for a moment, than he suddenly took a step forward.

"I can do it."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You can?"

"I believe so," Malfoy said and came to stand beside him.

"Have you done this before, Malfoy?" he asked, suddenly a bit worried.

"No." Malfoy replied curtly, killing Harry's previous fears, but woke new ones in the process.

"Then how can you be so sure that you can do it?"

Malfoy turned to him and stared straight into his eyes. This time he didn't flinch at all. Then he smiled a little and turned away.

"Watching what he is doing to you have given me quite a lot of motivation, Potter," was Malfoy's only reply as he raised his wand, pointing straight at the glittering ring. Despite Harry knowing what it was, it was still immensely beautiful.

Malfoy suddenly chuckled a little a little and lowered his hand. "I'm not entirely sure if I want you close or want you to leave the room, Potter, but just in case you should probably back away a little."

"Oh," Harry said, and quickly took a few steps back. "Sorry."

Malfoy just shook his head briefly and raised his wand once again, staring at the ring.

For a moment Malfoy did nothing, but Harry wasn't really bothered seeing as he had managed to produce nothing at all and still had needed quite a lot of time to reach that understanding. He just supposed that one might need even more time to get opposite conclusion. But then Malfoy suddenly turned around.

Harry jumped almost a mile when Malfoy's wand suddenly was pointed at him. But Malfoy lowered his hand and took a step forward.

"Potter, this is going to sound absolutely bloody ridiculous, but I have to ask, otherwise I will never be able to do this…" Malfoy rubbed his hand over his eyes again and shook his head like he couldn't believe what he was about to do. Then he took a deep breath, removed his hand and asked: "Are you going to think any less of me if I am able to do this?"

Harry was completely flabbergasted. He hadn't even thought about it. Not truly.

He thought about what had stopped him from performing the spell; he hadn't _wanted _to kill. If Malfoy could, that meant that he wanted it; that he had the desire to kill.

But this was Voldemort. A man that had tortured, killed and destroyed more than any wizard in history. Harry's general opinion was that if you didn't want him dead, you were as good as a Death Eater. Would he just jump that rule in Malfoy's case? And what had he told Harry? That watching him suffer had given Malfoy the motivation to do it.

Could he think less of a man that was prepared to go to such lengths just to help him? Even if Harry didn't approve of killing that was exactly what he had done. He had killed Voldemort. Well, right, about seven times actually.

And they would have to kill him anyway, in the end. The option was unthinkable.

And, somehow, that Malfoy had actually asked made the answer even easier.

"Of course I won't." Harry replied, completely truthful.

A brief smile drew over Malfoy's smile before he turned. "Good." The next words that left his lips were those of the killing curse.

The flash of green light was unnaturally bright and made Harry's heartbeat quick and heavy, making him feel like his rib cage would break from the sheer force of it.

And then he didn't feel much more.

Malfoy hit dead on. The ring flew high up in the air, and Harry's eyes followed it until they rolled back into his head and his knees hit the floor.

"_Potter… Potter…" _Through the mist he felt something cold and moist touch his forehead lightly before withdrawing.

"_Potter, you have a pulse, I know you're alive. Open your eyes." _Malfoy's voice demanded.

"Shut up. It feels like I've had my head bashed in with an axe and then brought back to life again," Harry protested, still keeping his eyes very much shut, reluctant to face the pain the daylight surely was to bring him.

"That might very well have been what happened. Well, beside the axe anyway," Malfoy pointed out, "Is he still in there?"

"Oh yes," Harry said, still clearly feeling Voldemort like a cold goo in the back of his head. Though that was a particularly meek description, Harry had nothing else to give at his current state of mind.

"Do you want me to help you to your feet?" Malfoy asked after a brief silence.

"No, go away…" Harry complained, not wanting to move an inch for at least two months.

To his surprise, Malfoy's steps on the wooden floor, and then the carpet, indicated that the Slytherin had obliged; until the steps returned again. He felt his hair rustle lightly as Malfoy put his knee down beside his head.

"Now you have to open your eyes, Potter; you must see this," Malfoy said.

With a groan Harry did as told, figuring it would have to happen eventually anyway. So he cracked an eye open. To his surprise, the light wasn't that bad, which indicated that he hadn't been out long, so he opened his other eye too and sat.

That proved to be a bit too much, though, causing his head to spin like he would faint again. Malfoy quickly put a hand on his back and steadied him until the spinning passed.

"Look at this." Malfoy then said, rather impatiently, shoving the ring in front of Harry's eyes.

For a moment, he didn't really understand what he was supposed to see. Then he spotted it. Deep in the blood-red jewel, looking almost like it floated in there, was a thin lightning-bolt shape, identical to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"What-…? How-…?" Harry stuttered, grabbing Malfoy's hand, holding the ring, so that he could see it better.

"He survived the killing curse." Malfoy simply said.

"I guess he did," Harry replied, still baffled. "Well, I guess we won't be returning this…" he concluded, feeling a little bad about it. But how on earth would they explain that?

"Oh, don't worry," Malfoy said, standing up, "I'll send them something new and sparkly they can show the world to replace it. I'm sure I can find something in the fault my parents won't miss. Or even notice _is_ missing, for that matter."

Harry smiled, feeling better. If the Malfoy vault was anything like the Black – and Harry very much suspected it was – the Smithsonian would be well compensated.

"Thank you," Harry said and looked up at Malfoy with a smile.

"Don't mention it," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Feel like standing now?"

Harry nodded and grasped Malfoy's hand as he held out it to him. Malfoy pulled him up easily.

Once on his feet, he found himself not more than an inch from Draco Malfoy's face. Shock at the closeness mesmerized Harry and he couldn't quite get himself to move.

But Malfoy could.

He smiled widely, waking a strange and unknown flutter in the pit of Harry's stomach. "Your eyes are green again, Potter, we must have done something right," Malfoy said, and then stepped away, putting the ring back in his pocket. "Maybe it won't be that hard to kill this thing after all."

As Harry watched Malfoy move over to the nightstand and put back the books he had removed from it, he suddenly realized something; the feeling that he really wouldn't mind if Draco Malfoy threw him on the bed and shagged him hadn't disappeared.

Apparently it hadn't been the suit after all.

* * *

My fic "For the love of God," is now completed, just to let you guys know. ;)

And sorry for the irregular updates; but I don't have many finished chapters left... :/

Was Harry absurdly stupid in this chapter? I didn't think so; I mean, it was his idea. Sure, it did't work, but lots of Draco's ideas has failed too. I have been mad at myself for making Harry rather daft but have been trying to better myself... but oh well, I guess I will just try harder then, won't I? ;) (Written after a review I received; I just wanted to get this out there. I AM working on it.)


	32. January 6th

**Chapter 32**

_Aaand, just as a reminder for those who forgot how the song goes (including me! XD ) here's a reminder:  
"__As divided thou shalt not give away thy soul, for thou shalt find that the myrmidon thy seek to fill is long since whole. For the final resting __intaglio is thy solitary choice, and hence thy mortal shalt be alone no more. By this thou shalt be protected from all until the first dyad of Agamemnon breaks through..._ "

Malfoy was pacing back and forth in the room; his angry steps dulled by the thick carpet on the floor, something Harry suspected only made the man angrier.

It had actually gone a full week since they had been at the Smithsonian and stolen the ring. Harry's condition hadn't exactly improved, and they still had no idea what to do about it.

And Malfoy was going positively _mental_ over it and had been doing so for the better part of the day.

"I can't believe it! We _have _the fucking gem, we broke the damned to hell lock, and now we can't kill it!" Malfoy burst, pacing back and forth in the room. "I can't _believe _how annoying this is! Voldemort's soul is-… the thing that is fucking killing you is right in there and I can't… _we_ cannot do a thing about it! It's in there and we just have to come up with something to break through and it-…!" Malfoy suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face him.

Draco covered his face with his hand for a moment and then looked up, pointing a finger at him.

"What did I just say, Potter?" Malfoy asked sharply.

Harry sighed. Malfoy had been saying roughly the same things all day; he hadn't really listened. He slammed the book he had read shut.

"I don't know, something about how useless I am for not having come up with a solution to all of this, this time I think…" he mumbled and waved his had dismissingly.

"What? That wasn't-… I was talking about… You know what, forget it. I meant the last part, what did I say?"

"Something about finding a way to break through, I think…" Harry replied.

"_Where _have I heard that before!" Malfoy burst, and started pacing again.

"I that damned song we found a while back! Now for Merlin's sake, Malfoy, sit still!" he demanded, pointing to the piece of floor in front of him. To his surprise Malfoy sat down instantly, though he barely seemed aware of it.

"The song! How the hell could I have forgotten about the song!"

For some reason Malfoy stuffed his hands down his pockets, searching for something.

"Damn it! Where is it? I put it in my pockets of my pants a while back and now…"

A little embarrassed, Harry checked his own pockets and, sure enough, pulled out a neatly folded price of paper.

"These pants?" he asked and handed the note to Malfoy.

Malfoy stared at him but accepted the paper. "Why are you wearing _my _clothes?"

"Because the house elves are refusing to clean my clothes by order from your father. I think it's his own way of saying that he won't kill me," Harry said. "And besides, they smell good."

Malfoy gave him a surprised look.

"Compared to mine I mean, that hasn't been washed in the last two weeks," Harry hurried to add.

"And you are just too fancy for a regular cleaning-spell?" Malfoy asked dryly.

"I set my clothes on fire last time I tried one," Harry admitted.

"Then ask _me," _Malfoy said, and ended the discussion by focusing on the note.

Harry smiled when he saw Malfoy's lips move as he set to analyze the words.

Harry actually managed to sit in patient silence for a while. Though patience is a virtue, it certainly wasn't Harry's.

"Didn't you recognize your own clothes?"

Draco didn't even look up.

"No. I just figured you finally had grown a sense of fashion and took the credit for it. Now shut up."

And Harry did shut up. For another five minutes.

At the lack of something proper to do he pulled out the chain Malfoy had given him for Christmas. He held it out a little, studying its fine chain as it glittered in the daylight, and asked: "Is this really silver?"

Malfoy sighed heavily, again not looking up from the song.

"_Yes, _Potter, it's really silver, how cheap do you think I am? Besides, nothing but silver can do _anything _to a possession, now _shut-…"_ Malfoy cut himself off and suddenly met Harry's eyes. "I've got it." he declared.

Harry scrambled upright. "You _have?" _

"Are you familiar with the tales of the Trojan war, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

Harry figured that it probably had to do with the _figuring out, _so he decided to humor Malfoy. "Er... only vaguely..." he admitted.

"Then I'm not going to explain it to you."

"But I said-"

"I know what you said, Potter, I also happen to know that you lied. Fine I'll take it briefly, but just because you are you." Harry didn't have a chance to ask what the Slytherin meant by that before Malfoy continued, "The Trojan horse Potter, you must have heard about it. Agamemnon's armies used it to get into Troy, on the hortation and initiative of Odysseus. The moral of the story is basically _nothing is what it seems._ Well, _that _part anyway, then there's something about Achilles revenge for Patroclus' death and a lot of blood and gore and wife-stealing but we'll just ignore that for now."

He was silent for a while, whilst Malfoy was staring at him, waiting for him to understand the Greek he'd just uttered (which actually _was _Greek, thinking a little closer about it). That seemed to happen disturbingly often these days. Finally Draco rolled his eyes. This seemed to be the result of that very waiting, most of the time.

"Seriously, Potter...! _Apply_ that to our little song."

"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts?"

Malfoy just glared. "To the _song, _Potter!"

"We... need two Trojan horses to get in to my head...?"

Malfoy's palm met his forehead with a slapping sound. A very un-Malfoy-like gesture, if someone were to ask Harry. Which no one was, of course.

"Christ, Potter, Granger certainly is the brain of your trio..." the blonde mumbled and shook his head, "_It's not what it seems. _I think it makes a double allusion on the first part of the text; implying again that the ring we have isn't just a stone. And, also _again,_ saying is that although this seems to be a horcrux, it isn't, and therefore won't be killed like one, which we already knew, of course. But this _dyad _part, though..." Malfoy tapped his finger below the word, "is very interesting. I couldn't make sense out of it until I figured out that you needed to interpret it quite literally." A smug smile had crept up on the Slytherin's lips.

He couldn't help but smile a little with him, even though he really didn't understand what Malfoy was going at yet.

"Agamemnon's _first pair, _Potter?" Malfoy urged.

"AG? What's AG?" he asked, taking a guess, even though he assumed that he was wrong.

But to his surprise Malfoy smiled, almost as if he was proud that Harry had gotten it.

"AG is the letters the alchemists use for one of the three base metals; an abbreviation of the word _Argentum." _Malfoy's tone was informative rather than transcendent, which somewhat surprised him. Because he really had the right to be.

"And in English that is...?"

"Sliver," Malfoy said.

* * *

Really short one, this, I know. But you have had, what, three long chapters now? It evens out. ;)


	33. January 6th Wednesday

**Chapter 33**

They ran down the hallways like mad, chasing each other down the many stairs; Malfoy of course had an advantage in their newly found race, seeing as he actually knew the way. But Harry was the fastest.

Neither of them had really thought about that they could just call on a house elf and ask it to bring a silver knife from the kitchen. But if they had, they probably wouldn't have done it anyway.

Harry could finally see the end of the tunnel that had been pitch black for so long; they knew how to kill Voldemort. He wouldn't turn into a murdering psychopath; he wouldn't kill Malfoy. His heart felt light and his head cleared of all trouble and doubt.

And Malfoy probably felt the same, Harry thought, as the blonde overtook him with a delighted laugh as the hallway split in yet another crossroad.

Harry chuckled as he set off again, determined to win their race despite having no idea where they were going.

But the hallways just kept twisting and turning and splitting, at times giving as many as four roads to choose from, so Harry was forced to slow frequently, losing any gain he might have had at Malfoy. But it didn't matter; he hadn't had this much fun in what felt like years.

Suddenly Malfoy took a corner so quickly that Harry almost ran right past it, but somehow he got out an arm and swung himself through what turned out to be a door. Before he managed to collect himself and look around, Malfoy slammed him against a wall, pinning his arms down.

Malfoy laughed, still breathing heavily from their sprint. "Do you surrender?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Harry had to laugh too. It was absurd really; not even he and Ron played childish games like this, and here he was, doing it with Malfoy of all people. And yet it didn't feel awkward in the slightest.

"I do!" he laughed, his own breathing just as ragged. "I do; you win!"

"I'd better," Malfoy said, "Now what's my price?"

"Anything you like," Harry chuckled. "I'll give you anything you like." He promised with a smile, finally starting to catch his breath a little.

Harry had expected some ridiculous demand of that Malfoy would be allowed to keep his wand for the day, or something along the lines of that, but to his surprise nothing came but silence.

Malfoy's intense silvery eyes met his without averting. And Harry found himself totally captivated.

Still breathing just a bit heavier than usual, their chest heaved in the same pace, almost touching as they both breathed in. Malfoy stood close; very close. Harry could feel the warmth from his body, feel his breath as he breathed out, and smell his now familiar scent.

Harry's eyes stuck at Malfoy's lips. They were moist, and shimmered a little in the sun shining in through the kitchen windows. They looked so soft, so smooth. Not very big, but still full.

Malfoy's left thumb was stroking the skin on his wrist softly; a strangely intimate gesture that Harry didn't mind.

Suddenly Malfoy tipped his head to the side just a little and leaned closer.

_By Merlin, he's going to kiss me! _

Harry shut his eyes quickly and might have tensed up, because no kiss came. Only a swift brush against his lips that was so light that Harry wasn't even sure if it had been Malfoy's lips or his breath.

Then Malfoy pushed himself from the wall and stepped away.

Harry stood frozen for a few seconds, then carefully cracked his eyes open. Malfoy stood with his back to him, a hand in his hair. Harry could see on his shoulders that he was tense.

_He was about to kiss me. Wasn't he? _

"We should find a good knife before you die of natural causes, Potter." Malfoy said sternly. Even to his own surprise, Harry immediately recognized it as Malfoy's voice for when he didn't want to talk about something. When had he learned to read Malfoy so well?

Harry's mouth moved by its own accord before he was able to think. "Yeah, I guess you will have to claim your price later."

Malfoy's head immediately snapped his way. He blushed, but met Malfoy's intense stare.

Merlin, had he just _flirted _with Draco Malfoy?

"I'm sure I will think of something," Malfoy said verily and turned away.

Had he flirted, Malfoy sure as hell wasn't flirting back. And that was probably good. What was he doing? This was supposed to be serious. It _was_ serious. And here he was… doing _what _exactly?

Merlin, Harry wanted to die. His delighted feeling was gone.

"Yeah, let's find a knife." He said.

As a reply, Malfoy simply raised his wand and mumbled an _Accio, _something he had probably intended to do earlier, before Harry had interrupted him.

A drawer in the corner furthest away slammed open and a large knife came flying out of it. Harry almost gave a shout of warning, but Malfoy caught it adeptly before he could get anything out.

"Do you want to do it, or shall I?" Malfoy asked, and turned slightly to him while getting the ring out of his pocket.

Harry barely hesitated.

"I don't think I trust myself with a knife around you." He replied. "We don't know what's going to happen."

"That's probably true…" Malfoy agreed, and before Harry got a chance to react Malfoy had stabbed the ring on the counter.

Harry had barely noticed when he had placed the jewel where it was, and he could scarcely understand how Malfoy was able to hit the ruby so dead on. But he did. The top of the knife easily pierced the middle of the gem. The silver cut through the gemstone like a hot knife through butter, somehow sinking deeper and deeper until it almost was buried to the hilt.

Harry stared with wide eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt something drawing together inside of him.

A ray of blinding light shot out from the ring, like something from Dudley's silly movies or video games. Then another . And another, all as the _something _drew closer. Goosebumps were spreading over Harry's skin at the unpleasant feeling and the words _not good _kept ringing through his head.

His hand flung out in the last second.

The knife exploded into an impossible number of shards, stopped midair by Harry's wandless spell.

Malfoy took a few stapling steps away from the silver hanging in the air, previously a mere inch from his face.

"Is…" Malfoy choked on his own words, but managed to clear his throat and continue, still with his eyes on the shattered knife. "Is… is he gone?"

"_Oh, no, Harry dear, not at all. You'll have to try something much better than that." _

"No." Harry replied curtly, not wanting to recite Voldemort's words. "No. He's very much still here."

*ϟ*ϟ*

Harry gripped desperately for Malfoy, half expecting blood. Tangling in the covers he fumbled with his hand's to find something, anything.

"Calm yourself, Potter, I'm here," Malfoy suddenly said, and a strong hand gripped his shoulder.

"Oh…" Harry said sheepishly, but couldn't help but stretch his hand out in the darkness to feel if Malfoy's nightshirt was wet. But no blood met his fingers, thank Merlin.

Malfoy released his shoulder as abruptly as he had gripped it, and suddenly the dim light of a lit wand illuminated the room.

Malfoy's elegant features looked eerie in the dim lighting, eerie and grim.

"That's enough, Potter," Malfoy said angrily, and for a moment Harry feared that Malfoy was going to yell at him for waking him up every night. But the words that left Malfoy's lips took him by surprise.

"You toss and turn every night because of these damned dreams, and I bloody well know this isn't just another one of your Voldemort induced dreams. Now you tell me what he shows you to freak you out to this extent, or by Merlin, I'll fetch father's veritaserum."

Harry stared back into Malfoy's serious eyes with a mixture of awe and chock in his chest.

Harry hadn't wanted to say anything; it felt awkward and strange to talk with Malfoy about these things, especially after he had made such a complete arse of himself during the afternoon. The man had barely talked to him since, and would probably think him mad for worrying about him to that extent. But Harry couldn't help it. And neither could he apparently hide what was going on from Malfoy.

"You keep dying Malfoy." He confessed. He had told Malfoy about his dreams earlier, but he had never revealed that they had never stopped. "Every night all I see is you dying. It's driving me insane."

Malfoy's jaw dropped slightly.

"What… why does he… why do you…?"

"I told you he did this a while back, too. Just before we left for Washington. The truth is that he has been at it since I-… _he_ tried to kill you after the Yule Ball. He figured out what got to me the most. And-…" Harry fisted his hand, squeezing hard as if he would be able to push Voldemort out that way. "And since the seal on that box was broken, I can't tell dream from reality until I wake. And even then I have a hard time telling. I'm sorry."

"What in the world could you possibly feel the need to apologize for, Potter?" Malfoy asked and shook his head. For a moment, it almost looked like Malfoy wanted to pull him into an embrace to comfort him.

"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable…" Harry confessed.

"Salazar, Potter, I-…" Malfoy cut himself off with a shake of his head. "From here on forth, know that you can tell me anything." Malfoy said.

Harry stared at him in astonishment. That was not at all what he had expected.

"I-…" he started, not knowing what he could possibly say. "Thank you." He finally settled on.

Malfoy just looked at him for long moments, and to his surprise, Harry found that he enjoyed simply looking back, not doing anything else.

"I have an idea." Malfoy suddenly said, and begun pulling at the buttons of his nightshirt.

Harry started to ask why, but the light form the wand – Harry wasn't sure if it had been his or Malfoy's – went out and left them in darkness again.

"Come here." Malfoy said softly, and before Harry had the chance to ask _where, _he was pulled into an embrace. Malfoy lay down and pulled the covers over them.

"Stay on my heart; it should help more." Malfoy said and wrapped an arm around his back.

The blood rousing in Harry's veins prevented him from hearing anything until he had calmed down a little. And when he did, the beats of Malfoy's heart were like a spell. Voldemort's presence instantly faded back into an almost nothingness and left him peaceful. Amazed at how well it had worked he put an arm over Malfoy's waist – deciding that he'd probably understand that Harry was just making himself comfortable – and closed his eyes.

He drifted off into a dreamlike state quickly; the soft circles Malfoy's fingertips were drawing over his ribs calming him even more.

Harry was so far out that he wasn't sure of the soft mumble in his ear was real or imaginary.

"_You need not worry, Harry, I won't leave you. I promise. I'll never leave you…"_

* * *

NAWWW! I'm so sorry if that was a little OOC, but I love it. I love adorable.

But anywho, I'm sorry for the long wait. But first I had to write it, and then wait for the lovely work of my beta. Because you wouldn't want to read it before she had laid her eyes on it. Or her fingers on the keyboard for that matter.

Next chapter will be up Friday. A special one, that is. My first chapter written by request.

But I need to go now. Until next time, everyone!  
(PS. Want me to let you in on a little secret? This fic ends January 11th... ;) )


	34. January 6th, Night

**Chapter 33.5**

Mini Chapter 33.5, by request of **Adreniline-Junky. **Enjoy.

_(Note that this was not at all planned. You might as well skip it; nothing of importance will happen. Something of interest though… well, that might be another matter entirely.) _

~DPOV~

Draco's eyes fell shut quickly, with Harry Potter already sound asleep in his arms.

Draco knew he was dreaming. Of course he knew that he was dreaming; the jeans Potter wore were at least three sizes smaller than those he usually preferred. And there was really no reason for his torso to be glistening like he had just stepped out of the shower. The all-too-obvious lack of any clothing to cover his upper body was, of course, also a clue.

Potter sat on a wide bench, looking the other direction out over natural scenery that somehow eluded Draco's eyes; his imagination apparently was wasted on little but Potter.

He walked up to the bench and sat beside Harry, who jumped, clearly startled.

"Oh, it's you," he then said in a voice that sent goose bumps over Draco's skin. Harry sounded so happy to see him.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling back.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and he was well aware that Harry was looking at him every now and then. Draco did his best in order to not look too excited about it, and forced himself not to look back. But he couldn't hide a smile.

"What are you going to do when all this is over, Draco?" Harry asked leaning back a little on the bench. Draco couldn't help but notice that their hands were mere inches apart.

"What do you mean?" he asked, though still more focused on how Harry's pinky almost touched his. If he could only move his hand a little to the right…

Harry's lips twitched in a brief smile and he looked away. "Forget it, it doesn't matter."

There was a mixture of Harry's words and his posture that radiated so much agony that Draco forgot all about subtleness and covered Harry's hand with his.

Harry jumped a little, but to Draco's delight he didn't snatch his hand away.

"What did you want to say?" he asked, stroking Harry's marvelously soft skin with his thumb.

Harry stared at him and the green eyes shone with a determination that Draco well recognized. Then Harry placed his free hand on Draco's thigh and kissed him.

Too startled to move at first, he was only able to take in the feel of Harry's wonderfully soft, full lips against his own. Then he pulled back.

"What are you doing?" he asked, despite that he felt like strangling himself. What did that matter if Harry's lips were on his own?

Harry smiled. "I'm saying what I meant to say," he replied, and then captured Draco's lips once again.

Draco smiled and kissed back. He knew that Harry could feel his lips as clearly as he felt Harry's, and that he maybe was giving too much away. But he didn't care. He wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and put the other on his shoulder and deepened the kiss. This wonderful, brilliant kiss that he had waited for so long… so long…

Suddenly it was Harry that pulled away. But not much; Draco could still feel his lips lightly touching his own. And hence, he felt the grin that spread over them. But his wasn't prepared for the laugh that rose from Harry's throat. The laugh that most certainly wasn't his own.

Draco quickly moved away. The previously light field was now dead and Harry's eyes shone red.

"Oh, you boys are too amusing," Voldemort declared maliciously.

Draco flinched. He wanted his Harry back.

"Oh, I know you do," Voldemort said, replying to his thoughts, "That's the best part of this."

Draco didn't reply, only staring in disgust back at the vile being that possessed Harry's body.

"You Malfoys always pretend to be so hard to read, but Potter cracks you open like a book, doesn't he, Draco?"

Still unwilling and unable to produce an answer Draco just stayed silent.

"This is all so brilliant. You see, Draco; your biggest fear is my greatest plan. And Potter's greatest fear is now my ultimate desire. This is all a match made in heaven. Or hell, if you prefer." Voldemort chuckled. "And you two are so oblivious, and yet so obvious."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked verily.

"Oh no, little Draco, that's for you to find out, for Potter to realize and for me… to exploit…" the grin that spread over Harry's lips was pure evil. And clearly not his. "Just know, that I am going to take your Harry from you… and then… I'll make his greatest fears come true."

"You vile, selfish-…!"

Draco woke with a jump, his eyes wide open at once. He was almost a bit disoriented at first. Because despite that the dream clearly had been just a dream, it had been strangely… _real._

Harry still lay sound asleep in his arms, something he was grateful for. Careful not to wake him, Draco pulled him just a little closer.

He knew what his own greatest fear was; that Voldemort would take Harry. But Harry's…? He had no clue. But whatever it was, he would do everything to prevent it from happening.

Damned Voldemort. The dream had even started out nice before he interrupted.

"_Well," _he thought bitterly, _"at least I didn't wake up with any uncomfortable problems…" _

The thought had merely passed through his mind when suddenly there was something that made Draco realize that Potter was, in fact, not at all asleep.

Deciding that there was no point in delaying he took a deep breath and said; "I'm awake you know?"

* * *

Fun fact; this is actually loosely based on a previous version of chapter 34, which I ended up deleting. The chapter started with the very line this one ended with.


	35. January 7th & 8th

**Chapter 34**

The even beats of Malfoy's heart still echoed in Harry's head. Despite feeling a little guilty about it, he had pretended to be asleep for almost half an hour this morning, just because he didn't wanted Malfoy to move.

Malfoy's warm arms had been wrapped around him, making him feel like had been in his own little protected world.

Harry felt bad about enjoying it to the extent that he had, especially since Malfoy's intentions clearly had been so noble (and platonic). But Harry had never, _ever _shared a bed with someone in that way; never cuddled. He hadn't even gotten the chance to just lie in bed and hug his own mother as a child. This was his first time.

And, despite that it was Malfoy that was the one holding him, he had appreciated it immensely. Or maybe he had _because _it had been Malfoy. A worrying thought.

"We need a sword that won't break," Malfoy said suddenly, pacing again, snapping Harry from his memories.

"One that's Goblin made then," Harry concluded.

Malfoy snorted loudly.

"Yeah, we'll surely have a big luck finding _that, _the goblins _hate_ making weapons. We're lucky if we find something sharp enough to cut hot butter with!"

Harry stared at Malfoy in surprise. "Have you suddenly gone daft?"

"Excuse me?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry stared in surprise, but then a grin started to spread over his lips. "Wait, I can come up with something whereas you cannot? Hold on for just a few seconds, would you? I have to savor this moment…"

"Potter…" Malfoy warned, but Harry could easily see the corners of his lips twitch as he tried to hold back a smile.

"The Sword of Gryffindor," Harry said. Malfoy looked almost taken aback for a second, but then he shook his head.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that. Just one problem though; do you know where the sword is?"

"No," Harry admitted easily, "but I know how to get a hold of it."

Malfoy's eyebrows rose.

"The sorting hat. You can pull the sword out of it."

Malfoy opened his mouth, but shut it again as he started pacing back and forth again and stayed silent.

"It sounds like it would work. Are you sure that the hat thing is doable?"

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me that a true Gryffindor could pull the sword out of the hat."

"And that would be you, of course," Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes, though Harry could hear it wasn't an insult.

"I've done it before," Harry simply replied. "I killed the basilisk with it."

"I believe you," Malfoy said with surprising solemnity. "I believe _in_ you. But you do realize this our last chance, don't you? We will need to take the train that leaves tomorrow, since we can't travel by magic. By the time we're there, you won't have more than a few days left. We won't have time to peruse anything else." By now Malfoy stood still, meeting his eyes steadily.

"It fits. Right now, it's the only thing that fits. And even though we might have gotten it all wrong…" Harry had to clear his throat in order to continue at the thought of what that prospect would mean. "… we don't have anything better, we don't _have_ another option."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Then I'll get us two tickets for the Hogwarts express tomorrow."

"The Hogwarts Express?" Harry asked a bit surprised, "I didn't know the train did anything but Hogwarts students…?"

Malfoy nodded. "It leaves for Hogsmead every Friday at eleven, and goes back to London at Sunday, as a holiday trip. Mother took me a few times as a kid," Malfoy explained with a shrug.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Bet our trip won't really qualify as a holiday, do you think?"

Malfoy's lips didn't even twitch. "No. Let's just hope that the train goes fast enough…"

*ϟ*ϟ*

Harry woke as someone shook his shoulder lightly. He groaned. His head felt like a cannonball; like his neck was too weak to hold it up.

"Potter, wake up, we'll be there in just a few minutes," Malfoy's surprisingly gentle voice said.

Reluctantly Harry opened his eyes.

To get to King's Cross station, they had been forced to Apparate. Like last time, it had done nothing good for Harry, and he had fallen asleep on the train as soon as they had found a compartment to sit in.

He found that he rested his head against Malfoy's shoulder – and probably had been doing so during the whole time he had been asleep – so despite his cannonball-feeling he straightened up quickly.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly and hoped that he hadn't drooled, "What's the time?"

"Quarter to eight and it's all right," Malfoy replied with an indifferent shrug.

"Good," Harry said, but blushed a little anyway.

They fell silent for a while as they both stared out through the window at the now moderately familiar surroundings.

In complete honesty, Harry felt terrible. Not only the cannonball feeling, but he actually _felt _Voldemort preparing inside his head. He didn't know exactly what that meant he was doing, but it seemed as though what he didn't have for himself he took from Harry. Voldemort was now strong. Harry… was not.

He knew this was the final battle. He knew because Voldemort's surge of power wasn't caused by the usual steady increase; this he had created for himself as a response to their actions. Hopefully, this meant they were on the right track.

However it was with that fact, Harry knew this was the night this battle would be won or lost. And he knew that Malfoy probably would have to fight it alone.

"Malfoy…" he said softly, almost inaudibly.

But Malfoy replied. "Yes?"

"I know I have asked this of you this before, but considering Washington, you didn't listen to me much..." Harry started, unsure how to continue, unsure what to say in order to make sure that Malfoy would do as he asked. "If this… gets out of hand, I need you to run."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Potter, listen..."

"No, you listen!" Harry burst, but immediately whished he hadn't because of the pain that exploded inside of his head. He put his hand over his forehead and shut his eyes for a moment, but then shrugged the pain off. This was more important. "This is the last chance. Both for him and for us. He knows it. And you know what will happen if he wins; he will kill you. And _I _know this is selfish of me, but I can't bear the thought of you dying, so you have to run. If I… you will see it, so if I start to die, you will have to run. I don't care if there's a slight chance of saving me from becoming Voldemort. I don't care; I can't let myself kill you. Don't stay."

Malfoy looked at him with a mix of anger and disbelief. "What about me then, Potter!" he burst. "Do you think _I_ can bear the thought of _you _dying!"

Harry honestly didn't have a reply. He had never thought about that. He met Malfoy's furious eyes and finally was able to rasp out: "I'm afraid you won't have much of a choice."

The change was immediate. The anger disappeared instantly and was replaced by something that almost broke Harry's heart.

Malfoy took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he turned away. Harry didn't know what to do or say, so he just ended up looking at Malfoy until the blond turned back to him.

"I… I need to tell you something, Potter," Malfoy said. "Something that I probably should have told you long ago…"

An intense feeling of that he _needed_ to hear this overcame Harry. He had no idea why, but it was there never the less. "Yes?" he urged.

"I…" Malfoy hesitated. "I guess there's no other way to say this…"

The pause was killing Harry. He wanted so badly just to shake Malfoy and demand that he should tell him, but he had a feeling that it would just scare him away.

Finally, oh _finally, _Malfoy opened his mouth. "I'm in-…" the next three words that left Malfoy's mouth was drowned in the unnaturally loud screeching of the breaks as the train suddenly slowed down.

The abrupt decrease in speed flung Harry forward, and weakened and with nothing to hold on to he landed harshly on the floor.

Malfoy held on to the shelf he had grasped until they came to a complete halt, but then quickly got to his feet and helped Harry up.

"Bloody mad train driver…" Malfoy cursed. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded quickly. "What were you going to say? I didn't hear you over the breaks."

For a moment, Malfoy looked disappointed, but then it changed into something akin to relief. "It doesn't matter," he said with a shrug and let go of Harry. "We should get going."

Harry quickly grabbed Malfoy's arm, desperate to hear the words he was almost certain he had lost. "Malfoy…"

Malfoy sighed and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I won't run, Potter, I will not leave you."

Disappointment flooded Harry. He had been right; the fragile moment was over. He didn't even argue with the fact that Malfoy had, once again, refused his plea for him to leave. He just let go of Malfoy's arm with a heavy feeling of having missed out on something important in his chest.

But Malfoy's hand dwelled on his shoulder a little longer. "I… I just wish I could have done more for you, Potter," he said with a sigh, moved his hand from Harry's shoulder to the door-handle and opened the door to their compartment. But before he opened it, he stopped again, and said, without turning around: "Your eyes are red again, Harry."

* * *

Heh... Yeah... There's not much left now guys... But we're going to pass 40 chapters at least, I can tell you that. One of which I'll be off writing now. Hope you enjoyed.

Until next time, everyone!


	36. January 8th

**Chapter 35**

_Quick AN here (you will get what I mean later). Explanation of Draco's… surprising and uncharacteristic ability will be explained in next chapter. Don't kill me._

**~DPOV~**

"Draco."

"Yes?"

"Take my wand."

Draco looked at Potter for a long moment, but finally nodded, not needing to ask what his reasons were; he knew that Voldemort was strong enough to use magic, knew that he wouldn't stay himself through all of this. Draco knew too, but he didn't like to have it confirmed.

Draco had more or less dragged Potter up to the castle and up to the Headmaster's office where the hat of course was kept – a secret path behind a statue having helped quite a bit. Now they stood in front of the gargoyle, and they both realized that they had a new problem; they didn't know the password.

Draco held Potter's wand firmly in his hand. Potter was exhausted. The snowy and icy road up to the castle had not been good for him, and the stairs inside of it even less so. They had absolutely no idea where McGonagall was, and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to get her.

Potter was in a far worse state than Draco ever had been able to anticipate. Almost as if he was confirming his thought's, Potter suddenly sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

Draco had never felt so useless in his whole life. He could do _nothing _for Potter. And what was stopping them was something as simple as a password on ground that should have been theirs and to their advantage. If he could, he would have run to find McGonagall himself, even though leaving Harry in this state would pain him. But the problem was that if Draco left Potter now, the Saviour of the wizarding would die. Plain and simple.

Desperate, he walked up to the grinning statue and put his hand on its horned head.

"Please… please, you must open. I have to help him…" he whispered, even though he didn't know why.

Suddenly he felt the statue move under his hand. Startled he backed away, and found that the gargoyles eyes were now open, staring at him. Then, incredibly, it moved to the side, revealing the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

"What in Merlin's…!" he stuttered, backing away, turning to Potter for some sort of explanation.

To his surprise, Potter chuckled weakly. "Dumbledore always said this office had a mind of its own. Seems he was right…"

"I don't care if it was bloody Voldemort himself who opened it," Draco said and helped Potter to his feet, slinging his arm over his shoulder to support him, "right now all that matters is that we get in."

Draco carefully helped Potter up onto the revolving stairs, and then quickly jumped on them himself.

The stairs stopped right as they reached the heavy wooden door that lead into the office itself. Draco quickly pushed the handle down and swung it open, thanking Merlin that you didn't need a key to open it.

"Come on now, Potter," he said and urged the man forward, more than a little unsettled by how unresponsive he seemed. But Harry lifted his foot and stepped over the high doorstep and into the room. Draco quickly followed and passed him.

"Now where the hell is that damned hat?" he said impatiently, looking around, not able to keep himself from fingering the ring in his pocket.

Finally, he spotted the old headwear on top of a high shelf.

"Accio!" he demanded, pointing what happened to be Harry's wand at the hat. It flew to his hands immediately, but didn't seem to wake up from whatever state it was in.

"Malfoy…" Harry suddenly said behind him, "I don't feel very well…"

Draco spun around quickly, alarmed by the tiredness and surrender present in Potter's voice.

Potter's shoulders were slumped and his red eyes stared back at Draco with no real life in them, a strange dullness covering them like a veil.

Draco almost thought that he was imagining it, but the redness of his iris seemed to be spreading, out to the corners of his eyes. But suddenly it overflowed, and started dripping down Harry's cheeks. Tears; only red.

_He's crying blood…_

"I don't feel very well at all…" Potter's eyes slid shut, and for a horrible moment Draco though he would just collapse. But then it got worse.

Potter's mouth opened, and out came the words and voice of Voldemort.

"So here we are then, at last, Malfoy…"

Draco gripped the hat so hard that he was surprised that it didn't wake up to protest. "What do you mean?" he asked verily.

"Oh, come on now, you must've known that you couldn't save Potter," Voldemort said, the blood dripping from Potter's chin as he took a step forward. Draco instinctively backed up, but ended up pressed against the desk in the middle of the room.

"Or did your little infatuation with the boy blind you to stupidity?"

"You will not have him…" was all Draco could get out.

"So you keep saying, and yet it's me and not you that is inside of his body right now, isn't it?" Voldemort said, and pulled Harry's lips into a wicked grin.

Draco felt his face heat in anger. "How _dare _you-…!"

"How dare _I?"_ Voldemort interrupted furiously, but suddenly went down on his knees. Draco was torn between laughing and rushing to aid, but decided against both.

"How dare _you! _You pretended to be loyal to me, your whole family did, and yet you do this! You are the only one able to hold me off, to delay my victory, and you choose to do it! You betray me because of something as ridiculous and weak as lo-…" Voldemort was interrupted by a series of coughs that splattered the floor with blood as Potter fell down onto his hands.

"Draco…" Potter's real voice sounded weak and faint after Voldemort's dark insults.

Draco rushed forward and dropped both wand and hat as he fell to his knees beside Potter and grabbed his shoulders. He didn't get anything out before Potter rasped something, a single inaudible word.

"What? What did you say, Potter?" Draco asked, squeezing Harry's shoulders.

Slowly Potter lifted his head and looked up at Draco. Green was battling with red in his eyes as the blood flowed abundantly from them.

"Run…" Potter demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Draco shook his head. "No. We're here now, Potter, we've won. All you need to do is pull the sword out of this stupid hat and this is all over, I know you can do it."

To his horror, Draco saw Potter slowly shake his head.

"I can't…" he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Draco, but I can't. Voldemort… he's too much… I can't anymore, I'm sorry…"

Potter's head dropped again as another surge of coughs shook his body, and even more blood stained the floor. But Potter lifted his head again and stared at him pleadingly. "Run…" Then his eyes suddenly flashed, and the green was gone.

"Or stay; don't mind me." Voldemort said and forced a grin on Potter's lips once again.

Draco snatched his hands away as if burned and quickly scrambled away; somehow managing to drag the hat and Potter's wand with him as he did so.

"Ah… alone at last…"

"Alone…?" Draco asked in confusion. Then it suddenly dawned to him what Voldemort meant. And his world slowly started to come apart. "No… you're lying!" Draco accused, but it came out almost as a plea. It couldn't be true. It couldn't.

"We both knew this was coming, Draco, no need to be surprised." Voldemort said coldly, almost impatiently and rose. "But there's no need to break down yet; I have a small piece of your darling Potter left still."

"What? Why?" Draco asked, and despite himself he clung onto that piece of information; that last hope.

"Because I want him to see you _suffer!" _Voldemort spat, momentarily losing his composure. But, this was Voldemort; it was back in no time. "After all you have done to me, of course I want to see you pay for it. And then there's the obvious upside that it will drive Potter completely mad to see me do it. You're a smart lad; you have to have seen it coming."

Draco hadn't. Maybe it had been foolish of him not to be more realistic, not to have prepared for this, but that there actually was a _real _possibility of failing… It was not really arrogance; what was about to happen was just… unthinkable.

"Actually, you have been surprisingly smart. I never intended someone to find their way to Washington; the consequences of that you did was just precautions. And of course no one but you could have. They needed to have your recourses… your knowledge… You never did tell Potter what books you looked in, did you? Why you continuously refused to take him to the library, why you did most of the research alone… and the foolish boy just thought you enjoyed teasing him…"

Draco was horrified. "What have you told him?" ¨

"Oh nothing," Voldemort replied casually and began pacing back and forth, slowly. "I rather enjoyed watching your little games. I'm impressed by your ability to lie, though; Potter never suspected a thing. I'd be the first to know. Of course, the wonder boy has never been the most perceptive one, has he…?"

Draco blushed in a mixture of anger and shame. Never had he felt worse about himself than when Voldemort gave him the praise.

"The the pretty little lie you made up; about it being a song! And the legend being from a children's story! And Potter never thought it suspicious that his little mudblood couldn't dig up something like that…!"

Voldemort laughed. For a moment it was Harry's, but then it broke and turned into Voldemort's mad chuckle.

"There's nothing sweet and innocent about this, and you know it, Draco Malfoy! This is black magic! Black, so dark that you could only find it amongst the darkest legends, so horrible that everyone wished nothing more than to forget about them!" Voldemort pointed a pale finger at him. The veins on the back of Harry's hand unnaturally large.

"And they did. Until you found them again. But all you told him was lies." Voldemort didn't scream anymore. His voice was even, almost soft, and his tone like they were talking about nothing of interest. "You told him that there must be a cure, though the clues you were chasing never had lead anywhere. You never told him about the pain that awaited him when I won. And-…"

"Shut up!" Draco finally burst, "He had enough on his mind! I couldn't lay that on him! I couldn't tell him _that!" _As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt ridiculous. He was trying to convince Voldemort, trying to defend himself in front of the Dark Lord. Useless, of course.

"You never told him that we'll never die. That no one will ever be able to kill me again."

The words left a strange chill in the air, like it had affected the world, just merely by being spoken.

"You never told him that he will not go anywhere. You never told him that he will be forced to stay; like a ghost inside the body that is now mine, unable to do anything but _watch." _

"No. _No, no no no…" _Draco's hand closed on the tip of the hat almost convulsively, shaking madly. He had _promised _himself that whatever happened, this wouldn't happen. That he was not by any means going to let Voldemort win.

"Oh, you were so clever. You found the book and the part you needed. Though you had to translate it from the ancient runic letters it was written in. It didn't take long, of course. Then you just transformed your scribbling from that parchment into looking like a page from an old book and stuck it in one. A book with pretty fairytales and songs that you thought wouldn't scare Potter like the ones that were in the book the verses truly originated from. A book of despair and horror. Of _fear!" _

He fumbled and somehow got the ring out of his pocket, clenching it hard, as if crushing it was an actual possibility. He had the hat, he had the ring. Everything they needed. Despite that he had lied about where he had gotten the information, he had never told anything that wasn't truth when it came to the things he had learned. He might have… kept things from Potter. But that was the things he was better off not knowing.

"How did you know…?" he managed to get out. "How did you find out…?"

"You did it so well that you even fooled me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But Potter provided me with an explanation that I bought far too easy; I – like his mudblood friend and himself – was raised by muggles. But I knew where I had found my sources. Yours simply couldn't be true. And as soon as I saw that, I realized what you had done. That you were protecting him, you foolish little boy."

Potter. He still needed Potter. He needed a true Gryffindor that could pull the sword out of the hat. One that could put an end to all this. One that could help him defeat Voldemort. One that could _help him. _One that could tell him that it was all right, forgive him for the lies and the deceiving. He needed Harry.

"A Slytherin to the heart and to the end, Draco Malfoy, you could have made me proud."

The words made Draco lift his head again, staring up into those red eyes.

"I didn't." Draco said.

"No, you didn't." Voldemort confirmed. "Potter, though… you exceeded his highest hopes. The stupid, hopeless minds of Gryffindors. It shall be a joy to have him in the background, to break him."

Harry had been… proud of him?

The ring slammed loudly into the wood of the desk – possibly even leaving a mark – as he put his hand on it for support as he stood.

Voldemort looked amused.

"Your resolve, though in vain, is impressive. I'd say it's a shame to kill you, but I really don't feel that way." Voldemort grinned. "How are you planning to pull this off? You need Potter to get the sword. But I have him. He will never be yours."

Draco flinched at the words, and could only hope it wasn't visibly. But it probably was, as he saw Voldemort's lips quirk in a grin. "Do you want me to let you in on a secret, Malfoy?" he whispered. His read eyes were almost shining, and the narrow streams of blood that flowed down over Harry's quickly paling cheeks increased further in pace.

An ominous feeling rose inside of Draco at the words. He let go of the table and backed away a little, but left the ring laying on the dark wood still.

"What…?" he finally whispered back.

Voldemort smiled. "I can do magic without a wand."

Draco saw as if in slow motion how Harry's hand lifted until its open palm was directed at him.

"_Avada…" _

A shill went through Draco's body and froze him to the spot. He knew it was only a warning, a proof of what he was capable of and that he wouldn't get off so easily. But the fear that the word induced made him unable of thinking rationally.

"… _Kedavra." _

Had Draco Malfoy known of electricity, maybe he would likened the brief flash of green to the flash of when a light bulb breaks as you flick the switch. As it were now though, he could only stare in shock.

Red as they were, Harry was still behind the eyes that stared at him, pained.

Draco stared back. How could he possibly fail Harry now, when he needed him the most? He had been proud of him, believed in him. He had to do this. _Had to. No matter what. _

Without really thinking about what he was doing he lifted the hat he had barely been aware of that he still was holding and stuck his hand into it. For a moment, there was nothing. Whatever it was that had filled him faltered a little, and the fright that had filled the red eyes in front of him changed into relief and mocked him.

But then something cold landed in his hand, the grip so perfect that it was as if the silver had been welded for his hand. And, out of the sorting hat, Draco drew the sword of Gryffindor.

Putting the hat away, his gripped the hilt with both hands, the weapon feeling balanced and surprisingly _right _in his hands.

The fear had fully returned into the red eyes.

"No!" Voldemort screamed, but it was too late.

Draco took two steps forward, changed his grip on the weapon, and drew it straight into the ruby on the desk, almost like they had been drawn together.

Just like the knife had done, the Sword of Gryffindor went far deeper in the gem that should have been possible. And Harry screamed. Both he and Voldemort did, in a two-voiced roar of pain and anguish.

There was no light this time. Nothing mysterious and magical that proved that something momentous, incredible, had just happened. Then suddenly the sword and the ring shot apart, as if an explosion had just taken place in between them. The ring flew into some far-off corner, while the sword went straight into the wall and bounced down on a chair and finally clinked down onto the floor.

With a heavy exhale – almost as if he was breathing out his soul through his mouth – Harry collapsed onto the floor.

This was it. This was the end. He could feel it; there was no more Voldemort. But Harry…

Draco fell to his knees beside Potter's motionless body.

"Harry…" he managed to get out in a choked whisper. "Harry…"

Tears were burning at the corners of his eyes as his emotions flooded back from the perplexed state he had been in. An overwhelming desperation took an almost violent grip on his stomach, clenching, making him feel sick.

His hands were shaking heavily as he lifted them to Harry's face to wipe away the rivers of blood marring his face. He ended up just smearing it, leaving Potter in an even worse state than previously. "Harry…"

His hand clenched harshly around Potter's shirt as he doubled over. A sob finally managed to tear its way from his throat as he felt devastation and panic roaring through his mind.

Not Harry, not now… _not now_…

After all they had done… and now… now like this? Now… just minutes too late. Too late. Everything was too late. He had never said...

"Harry…!"

The tears overflowed in his eyes, dripping rapidly from his chin, leaving wet marks on Potter's shirt. "I told you that you couldn't die… I told you!"

Every single heartbeat was painful, as if a stone had settled in his heart making it heavy and hurting. He was so desperate and devastated that he didn't know where to go, what to do. His throat was so tight, the lump in it so hard and so big, that he almost couldn't breathe. His head was refusing to believe that which Potter's body clearly said. He had lost. He had failed. Voldemort was gone, but so was Harry. If this was a victory, then the price was immense. Draco would have much preferred to lose if only that cost could be erased.

_He's gone. It's all over now. _

Draco had always looked down upon crying, but now he might as well have stopped the flow of time as that of his tears. He had never witnessed a death like this. And he had never cared so much about someone that he had lost before.

Draco had always looked down upon crying, at useless shedding of tears.

But now, with Harry Potter's dead body in his arms, he cried so hard that it felt like he would puke.

"Harry… stay with me… please, just stay with me…"


	37. January 8th, Friday

**Chapter 36**

He was aware of how his chest rose and fell with his breathing, but also how hard it was to get it to do so. This was the first thing he had been aware of, and now the one thing he clung on to as he slowly came back to his senses.

As the moments passed by his breathing got easier and he didn't need to think so much about it to get it to work. He felt _good. _He was still a little too far out to say why, but he did. His body felt heavy and weak, though. But someone was holding him up; one hand under his back and the other supporting his head, cradling him close to the body which they belonged to.

The smell… clean, lovely and familiar. _Malfoy. _

Harry's eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring at the slight curve of Malfoy's neck. His lips curved into a weak smile. He didn't feel like moving just yet.

Suddenly a shiver shook Malfoy's body, and he held Harry even tighter as a thick mumble passed his lips. "Harry…"

A little concerned he tried to reply, but found that his throat did not quite cooperate, and he ended up just coughing helplessly.

Harry thought his ribs would give in if Draco held him any tighter.

"You're alive! By Merlin you're alive!" Malfoy whispered in his ear, voice strangely light.

He moved, with effort, his hand form where it had lay listless on the floor and placed it on Draco's back.

"Surprisingly," Harry agreed, finding his hoarse voice finally. "I suspect I have you to blame for that."

"You have." Malfoy confirmed and the hand that supported his head moved a little, until he felt Malfoy's soft thumb stroke lightly over his neck. He wanted to form a thank you, but found that he was still too far out to form coherent enough thoughts to get anything proper out.

"I'm going to let you go soon…" Malfoy promised, and Harry wasn't sure if it was a warning or an assurance. "I just… I thought you were… I…"

"It's okay." Harry said. Honest. Because it was; everything was okay now.

"He's gone now, isn't he?" Harry said with a smile, despite that he knew that Malfoy couldn't really see it.

"Your head is the habitation, not mine."

Harry just smiled another smile the blond couldn't see. "Yeah, but I can't remember anything," he confessed.

Carefully, ever so carefully, Malfoy laid him back down on the floor. Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the motion anyway, trying in vain to shield of the pain that coursed through his aching body. When he opened them again, Malfoy was looking away.

"You remember nothing?"

"Well…" Harry started, trying to get his mind running, finding it easier and easier as the seconds ticked by. "I remember refusing to let Voldemort shoot a killing curse at you. And, of course, telling you to run and you not listening. Honestly, I can barely recall how we got up here in the first place. Everything except what I told you is just… black."

"Good." Came Malfoy's short, almost morose, reply.

Harry didn't argue.

He knew that he probably should sit up and have a conversation like a normal person, but he found that he couldn't gather the strength to do it. So he just tilted his head to get a better look at Malfoy; who was still promptly facing the other direction.

"You're bloody." Harry stated with concern as he eyed Malfoy's clothing.

"It's your blood, you over-considerate Gryffindor." Malfoy scoffed. "You didn't hurt me."

Not particularly offended by the insult, Harry tipped his head to the other side to see what damage he might have caused the poor headmaster's office, if now Malfoy was unharmed. But nothing seemed battered.

That's when he spotted the sword, laying peacefully on the floor. Momentarily forgetting that he was weak, he sat straight up in surprise.

"Malfoy, the sword…!" he stuttered. "You got the sword!" his little outburst caused him to break down in a series of coughs, almost forcing him down on his back again.

"Yes." Malfoy replied quietly.

Harry laughed amidst his coughs. "Draco Malfoy, a true Gryffindor! What a mistake the sorting hat made!"

"Not at all," came a cool reply from by the desk.

Startled, his head snapped in the direction the sound had came from. But he had recognized the voice; he didn't really need to see the Sorting Hat dark stare from behind its folds. "Draco Malfoy is a true Slytherin, believe nothing else."

"I know." Harry replied, feeling bad about his teasing under the scolding tone of the pointed garment. "I said it because Dumbledore once told me that that was how the sword worked; only a true Gryffindor could pull it out of you."

"Wise men can be wrong, Harry Potter, it is a lesson deserving of remembrance," the hat said. "Though in this case, I know with certainty that Albus thought you needed the confidence more than you craved a further explanation; he knew about the qualms I gave you about which house you truly belonged in."

"Only the one with courage in his heart and a true desire to protect is able to draw the sword of Gryffindor. That is all that matters; a Gryffindor like the man himself. No name, no title, and no other than these qualities are needed."

"Ah," Harry said with a light cough, "look at that; despite all that Slytherin it seems you are a Gryffindor where it matters the most."

"And you will shut up about it; otherwise you will find yourself without a tongue." Malfoy replied, still looking away. Now a bit worried, not only of that he might have offended him, Harry placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "I didn't mean it as an insult, Draco. I… am very grateful and…" he cut himself of, unsure of how much he should say. "And quite frankly, I'm proud of you."

Slowly, Malfoy turned to look at him. At first, Harry didn't notice anything. But the look on Malfoy's face; as if he was just waiting for something inevitable to happen, caused him to look again. That was when he saw the red edges around those grey eyes and the glistening wetness on his cheeks and chin.

Malfoy probably saw his eyes widen.

"Are you still _proud _of me?" he asked grimly.

Harry silently moved his hand from Malfoy's shoulder and to his face, needing to feel the dampness he saw, needing to feel that it was real. It was. Of course it was.

"You idiot." Harry said, drying the tears away with his thumb. "What reason have you given me not to be? Why are you crying?"

"Were." Malfoy pointed out. "I've stopped."

"Why _were_ you crying?" Harry corrected himself with a smile.

"Now you are the idiot." Malfoy replied. "If you scare me like that again, you're not going to wake up, I can promise you that."

Struck by an intense urge, he pulled Malfoy's slight frame into his arms and held tight. "I'm sorry." He said, not only referring to the nights dismays, but unable to form words.

"Harry." Malfoy said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"If you still have 'qualms about which house you truly belong in', I can tell you that of all the bloody annoying, moronic Gryffindors I have had the displeasure of meeting, you take the prize."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

"I can insult you some more if you like?"

Now Harry laughed. "That'll do just fine, but thank you for the offer."

"Anytime." Malfoy promised, gently pushing him away. "Now let's get you down to that tower of yours."

* * *

But I have to! I hope last chapters little twist considering the plot (that Draco hid information from Harry) wasn't to improbable or sudden to accept. There are hints, but maybe too subtle. It wasn't intended that one would be able to figure this one out…

Oh, I have so much to say now that you wouldn't believe…! But of course, you can just skip this. Despite everything; you _can _read the story without my stupid notes.

Anyhow, anywho and anywhere and anything else you can say… *bounces* I have been so excited to post this. Or rather, the last chapter. And I wanted to talk about it, but that would be bloody stupid; ruining the moment like that. My mission was totally to make you cry, btw. Whether I succeeded or not. Buuut, of course, how many of you thought that Harry was going to die? _Really. _I, myself, am always in denial. In this one, for example, I'd claim that it's an M and therefore unlikely that anyone would die before anything had happened. Or that there's no Angst genre set. And also that I told you that it'd end the eleventh.

This was not what I was going to say.

I wrote this (with 'this' I'm referring to the last chapter, just so you know.) after I had read… oh, I can't remember its name. Oh, might as well keep it that way; no spoilers. Anyhow, it was a Merlin (BBC) fic. And he died at the end. Merlin that is. And I cried. Not dramatic and silent. I was hulking and sobbing and snotting (not a word, but you get my drift) for an hour. And so I wrote that dying part in the middle of the night. Or more like at dawn actually. Mine is way worse, but at least I had the inspiration.

I noticed that many of you seemed to think that this was going to be the last chapter... I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a little longer for that... ;)


	38. January 8th Evening

**Chapter 37**

Draco had located the now empty ring, stuck it in Harry's hand and helped him to his feet. Mercifully.

Harry's legs acted as if he had been laying down for ten years rather than ten minutes. On the way down the stairs, Harry had hung so heavily on Draco's shoulders that the blond had almost carried him. But as they got closer and closer to the Gryffindor tower his legs grew less wobbly until he could walk on his own.

He was still weak and somewhat unsteady, but it was amazing how good he felt already. Truly, nothing could ruin this day – possibly with the one exception of Voldemort somehow returning to his head. Not that there was much left to ruin…

Malfoy, though, seemed strangely grim. Harry couldn't possibly understand why.

That was, until they reached the Fat lady and Malfoy _stopped. _That was when everything dawned to him. The loneliness inside his skull was something he had longed for and immensely enjoyed, but the void that he really had known inevitably would follow it… the lack of _Draco_ present in his life.

"I… suppose you're leaving… now…?" Harry asked, and decided that something else other than Voldemort most definitely could ruin this evening. And mess up and shatter and wreck and spoil annihilate and utterly _destroy_.

"Yeah…" Malfoy agreed.

Harry's thoughts were spinning too fast; he couldn't register all he was feeling. All he knew was he _didn't want this to happen. _

"Well then," Harry said, and stretched out his hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Malfoy."

A slight smile twisted Malfoy's lips through his foul mood as he grasped his hand. "After a month of 'Potter' and 'Malfoy', don't you think it's time to call each other by given names, Harry?"

Harry held Malfoy's – Draco's – hand a little longer than possibly was necessary.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed then. "Draco."

Malfoy's smile faltered as he gave a slight nod before turning his back to him. But before Harry got the chance to react Malfoy's steps – thankfully – faltered, and he turned around.

"Harry… before I leave…" Draco started, and walked a few steps back towards him, hands stiffly turned into fists and lips thin.

"Yes?" Harry replied, somewhat… concerned about the serious tone.

"Be… careful." Draco said, his voice thick with words that were clearly left unspoken.

"What?" Harry asked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Draco's grey eyes lifted, but he had to clear his throat before he spoke. "I was serious back then; there are only so many times you wake up. Keep going like this and the day when you don't will come soon." A disgust that Harry hadn't seen in a long time twisted Draco's face as his as tears once again made the grey eyes bright. "What I felt back then, when I thought you were-… It is not something I wish to relive. Don't… don't die. I… Just don't, okay?"

Harry just nodded, wondering about the words Draco still wasn't saying.

"I guess I should leave now," Draco said. But didn't move.

Harry stared desperately back. It filled him with more fright and dread than relief and happiness to see Draco go, something that he hadn't thought possible before. But now he didn't know what to do about it. Never had he wanted something to happen _less _than the moments he knew would follow.

"Goodbye," Draco suddenly said and turned his back to him.

Ice filled Harry's veins though his face heated and his gut twisted in despair. His head was spinning and his heart was clenching.

And suddenly he held Draco's hand in his. "Don't," he managed to push past his lips.

Struck by a sudden impulse and the need to delay the moment that he knew was going to come he searched in his pocket with the hand that currently _wasn't _holding Draco's in a, surely, painful grip. "Wait just a moment."

But suddenly he _wanted _to do this too. It felt right and _good. _Although perhaps not well thought through. But he pushed all thoughts of that aside when his fingers managed to grasp the cold ring and drag it out of his pocket.

"I want you to have it. I know you think it's beautiful, and I want to give you something for your trouble. Maybe it's not mine to give, truly, but it's… really what has held us together and I thought-…" Realizing he was babbling sappy nonsense he shut himself up before he could embarrass himself further, and looked to the ground. Unfortunately Draco's and his hands were still entwined and very much in the way of his ground-staring. And, somehow, when Harry wasn't really paying attention, he had put the ring on Draco's finger. Miraculously the platinum band fitted perfectly. And miraculously, he was still alive to notice that.

Struck by embarrassment and fear he quickly snatched his hand away. What in Merlin's name was wrong with just _giving _him the damned thing!

Malfoy didn't look like he had much to say about it, though. Actually, he looked like he didn't have much to say _at all, _for some reason. His jaw hung somewhat slack as he stared down as he stared down at the jewel that adorned his left ring finger.

"It's just a gift." Harry added, but couldn't even manage a forced laugh. "You can toss it in the lake if you want; I just wanted to give it to you. But if you want to wear it you can of course do-…" Harry cut himself off with a strange, choking noise, realizing that he was back at things-he-really-shouldn't-say again.

The silence stretched, making Harry want to scream the password and run into the common room before Malfoy could say anything. The knowledge, though, that this might be their last… _normal _moment – by their new standards – kept him firmly in place, terrified that the moment might end and desperate for it at the same time.

Finally Draco looked up. There was something… _touched _in those grey eyes. And then something else that made Harry want to pull him into his arms and never let him go. The feeling drove him slightly mad. So mad, in fact, that he couldn't possibly be blamed for the words that left him mouth in the very next moment.

"Do you think you could maybe stay the night?"

Draco blinked.

"I mean, just in case," Harry quickly added. "He got out of me not an hour ago, after all…"

Harry was sure that, somewhere, he was making a valid point (being all alone in the Gryffindor tower and being far away from other people and all that) but he couldn't bring himself to find the right arguments. The only things his mind bothered coming up with was things like _because it would be really nice _and _because I want you to _or _because I would miss you otherwise, _but he was still present enough to know that those were things he shouldn't say.

Finally, a lazy grin began to spread over Draco's lips. "You're heeding my advice and being cautious, Potter? My, I'm almost proud."

"Shut up," Harry said, but smiled back and noted with maybe a bit too much delight that Draco followed him past the Fat Lady's now open frame.

*ϟ*ϟ*

Harry had no idea what time it was. If he had a watch it would probably say 'in the middle of the night' and go to sleep again. It felt as if the whole world was in a deep slumber. Everything beside Harry, that was.

But Draco… Draco was asleep.

And Harry might have accidentally pushed the covers aside… just a little. Just a little, and just enough so that he could see Draco's torso. The pale skin rose and fell with the heavy breaths of the Slytherin's slumber. Harry had with effort refrained himself from touching the soft-looking skin. Emphasis on _had. _Because somehow his hand now had ended up on Draco's stomach anyway. He made sure not to move around, petrified of waking Draco. But it lay there, as Harry's head rested deep in the soft pillow, close to Draco's warm body, it laid there, just over Draco's navel.

He had realized that the crippling panic that had taken such a firm hold of him as he realized that Draco was going away hadn't diminished; and neither would the buzzing feeling in his stomach.

Harry had come to a conclusion. There simply couldn't be any other explanation for why he found the previously annoying Slytherin's smile appealing all of a sudden. Or why he wanted to stroke the other man's cheek with his fingertips, or drag his hand through that perfect blonde hair. Or – worst of all – feel those smooth lips against his own.

It seemed that the worst thing Voldemort had been able to do to Harry from inside his head wasn't almost killing him. It seemed that the worst thing Voldemort could do from inside his head was turning him gay.

Gay for Draco Malfoy.

Or he had managed that all on his own, which was an even more alarming thought.

* * *

Hello everyone. Please don't shoot me. I know this have taken forever, and I apologize. But just so you know; I have two good reasons for it. One; I've been sick. That was my first delay. My second is that I have now come in contact with my family. You know I talked about going away as an exchange student a while ago…? So, anyhow, now I know I'm going to Valrico, Florida. So if anyone lives in the area, tell me, ok? ;)

Another thing I want to say because I can because I'm the author. I love Pocahontas. And Tarzan. Watch them. Now.

…

I see you. Yeah, you. You're not watching yet. What? Oh, you're writing a review? Ok then, you're excused. For now… *glare*

XD Sorry, I'm just a bit tired.


	39. January 9th

**Chapter 38**

Harry had woken early that morning, despite having fallen asleep so late, before the sun had even risen. Dawn was now sending a pinkish light through the bedroom window, falling on their bed, shared for one last time.

The one thought currently dominating Harry's mind was _How could I not have realized this before? _

It struck him that he hadn't – not ever – watched the blond sleep; not since their first night together; seemingly ages ago. He had always fallen asleep before Draco, and rose after him. It took him a while to even recognize what he was feeling as he thought about this. _Protected, _the answer suddenly came to him_. _He hadn't felt that since… Since when? He thought about that, too, and the first that came to mind was Dumbledore. But no, he hadn't felt _protected_; he had felt safe and at least somewhat secure. But not protected. Not at the Weasleys, definitely not at the Dursley's. Not even with Sirius, during the very brief amount of time they had gotten together. He had been the _protector, _not ever the _protected. _

A strange, tight feeling rose in his chest. Doing his best to push it away he lifted his hand and stroked away a few strands of blond hair that lay sprawled over Draco's forehead. He tried to tuck them away behind Draco's ear, but – like he knew – they were too short and just fell back again.

"Mmh... what are you doing...?" Draco wanted to know, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

"I'm watching you sleep," Harry said, confident that Draco wouldn't remember this later anyway. His voice was strangely hoarse. It was not only his chest that felt tight; his throat felt like he had tried to swallow a rock and it had gotten stuck halfway down.

"Okay then..." Draco said and exhaled softly, "Then you'll continue watching and I'll go back to sleep, how 'bout that, Harry?"

"Sounds great..." Harry mumbled in the same hoarse voice as before.

Draco sighed in contentment and suddenly his hand rested on Harry's chest. Fingers spread wide; it lay just above his heart. Draco snuggled closer and rested his forehead against Harry's ribs as he fell back into sleep.

*ϟ*ϟ*

"Have I forgotten anything?" Draco asked and looked around in the room. "It feels like I'm forgetting something…" Their eyes met briefly.

_'You're forgetting m,.'_ Harry thought to himself, but blushed when he realized that he had. "You didn't bring much to forget," he said out loud, "If you have, isn't it more likely that it's at the manor?"

"True," Draco admitted and turned around. They headed for the stairs in unspoken agreement.

Once in the common room they stared at each other. How… how were they supposed to do this, exactly? They probably weren't exactly what one would call friends, but they had spent every hour of the day together for three weeks. And now they were just parting? Would they go back to insulting each other in the hallways, or just stop talking altogether?

Feeling his knees buckle he stumbled over to a chair and sat down heavily. He buried his face in his hands, not caring what it must've looked like to Draco.

"I guess I should get going, then…" Draco said, and to Harry's surprise he used his old tone of voice. He hadn't really realized it until then, but Draco hadn't spoken to him in that toneless voice during all these weeks.

He heard Draco sigh and start to walk away.

For some reason Draco hadn't felt the need to hide his emotions from Harry. He had heard him angry, he had heard him joking, and he had even heard him sad. And heck if he hadn't sounded embarrassed at times, too!

But what meant the most; he had heard Draco sound happy. It shot a tingling sensation through his whole body just to think about it, but it also wrenched something inside of him to think that he would never hear it again.

Maybe he was silly. Of course they would see each other again, they went to the same school, didn't they? And it wasn't that big of a world.

But when they met, how would they act?

"Harry, there's something else I need to tell you."

Harry's head snapped up instantly. "What?"

"First, I want to ask you please not to kill me after this."

Harry wrinkled his brow, a little worried. "What?" the word was a bit sharper this time.

"I didn't find the legends among children's stories; I found them in terrible books of black magic with blood and grim and gore. If Voldemort had won and you died, you'd both become immortal, you without a chance of ever reclaiming your body. There's no recorded history of anyone ever breaking one of these spells this way before. And… no, I think that's about sums it up."

Harry stared at Draco with wide eyes. Draco looked back, probably trying to appear indifferent, but his nervousness was evident. It was not the same as before; it was not the anxiousness of making a fool out of himself, but something else.

Harry was furious. Probably. His emotions was too tangled, too contradictive, to make sense of. He didn't know what he was feeling. But then something suddenly shone through; betrayal. He stood and pulled at his hair in a vain attempt at doing _something _with his feelings. "Is _this_ what you were going to tell me on the train?" he asked and the words came out more bitter than he intended.

Draco flinched visibly

"No… that was… something else."

"What?" Harry demanded sharply.

Draco shook his head and lowered his gaze. And something inside Harry snapped. "Damn it, Malfoy, why won't you trust me!" Harry bellowed. "I handed you my bloody life on a plate and you don't even tell me what you know!"

Draco looked up and as always his grey eyes turned cold while Harry felt his whole body heat in anger. "And what would you have done if I had told you, Potter?"

"_Something!" _Harry burst, gesturing wildly. "Anything!"

"You could have done _nothing, _Potter," Malfoy spat, "if you could, I would have done it already. And if I had thought you needed the information I would have given it to you."

"I'm not some child that needs protection!" Harry cried. "You don't decide what I should know and not!"

"You don't understand, Harry," Draco said, and some of the anger seemed to go out of him.

He didn't know why, but for some reason that made Harry even more desperate. "That's because you don't tell me anything!"

Draco just looked at him for a moment, and then he turned around and headed for the door.

Harry's anger was gone instantly. His throat curled up into a hard knot instantly and the corners of his eyes burned. He didn't want this to be the last thing they said to each other. The damned fight was stupid. He wasn't furious; he had just been hurt. Draco was right anyway; what on earth could he possibly have done with the knowledge? Felt even worse about himself? No, the argument was over and already forgotten in Harry's mind. Now he just wanted to hear Draco laugh, wanted to hear him happy. And he wanted to wake up with him at morning, just like he had done every day during the past weeks.

Damn it all, but he needed Draco more than he ever had during the whole Voldemort-episode.

"Draco!" he called out, desperate. Draco turned around.

He could see the hope in the grey eyes, and suddenly he had no idea what he was going to say. Draco was expecting something, but he had no idea what to give him. His whole mind was blank, and he couldn't possibly tell him what he'd just thought. If he did, Draco would surely _run _out from there.

"Thank you..." he finally got out, but he knew he had chosen the wrong words as soon as they slipped past his lips.

The flash of hurt and anger in Draco's face just proved his suspicions. He half expected Draco to scream and curse at him, but to Harry's surprise the blond simply sighed deeply and covered his eyes with a hand.

"You must be the stupidest and most ignorant person on this planet, Potter, after all this time and you still haven't noticed anything. Sometimes even I don't know why I-..."

"What haven't I noticed?" he asked in confusion. _That _was the wrong thing to say.

"You know what?" Draco snarled, "Screw you Potter. Have you ever even asked Granger how she got me to agree so quickly? We didn't even bloody know for sure you were dying back then!"

Harry stared at Draco in bewilderment. _Now _he got angry? It was like Draco was speaking another language; he heard that he was talking but understood absolutely nothing.

Draco sighed again and he seemed to deflate like a balloon as the anger went out of him. "Forget it, I just thought... It doesn't matter now."

Before Harry could get out anything else, Draco was out of the common room. Probably out of his life as well.

* * *

For those wondering; yes they technically _did_ know that Harry was dying, but when Hermione talked to Draco, they didn't know that Voldemort actually _needed_ Harry dead.


	40. January 9th, Saturday

**Chapter 39**

Harry stood lost in the middle of the dorm room, having gone up there in hope of leaving the nasty feeling of having committed an irreversible wrongdoing behind. It hadn't really worked.

Suddenly seeing a book he didn't recognize on his nightstand, he walked to it and picked it up. It was a thick book, more than a thousand pages probably. He thought that he recognized it – at least vaguely – but he knew that it wasn't his. He flipped it over. _Possessions and what to do with them, _the cover read in worn, golden letters. He stared at it for a long time, something with the book having moved him though he didn't know what. Then he realized; this was the book Draco had read the first night they had spent together.

He opened in haphazardly, close to the middle, and found the page scribbled all over. His brow furrowed and he turned the page. The next one looked the same. And the next. And the one after that.

Each and every page was covered in the neat scribbling he these days easily could identify as Draco's.

"_He read it all," _Harry thought, "_way back then, and he read it all just to help me." _

He put the book back at the nightstand quickly and hurried down the stairs again. He proceeded to pacing back and forth over the large carpet in front of the fireplace. What had Draco said to him before he left? Something about that Harry should have wondered why Draco had agreed to help him when they didn't even know that he was dying? That Draco barely hadn't needed any persuasion at all and had accepted so quickly that it should have caused suspicions?

Well, first of all, back then every minute in Harry's life had felt like days, so the timeframe could certainly be discussed. Or his perception of it, anyhow.

But they _had_ known that he was dying back then, too, hadn't they? But had Draco? It certainly didn't seem that way.

But Harry actually _had _thought about how much Draco was doing for him. He had lain in bed with him for a whole _day, _despite not really knowing why or how much it really helped. They hadn't even found out why Draco was needed until around Christmas!

Harry stopped.

_They? They_ had never found out anything. It was _Draco _who had done everything. Not even Hermione had found anything to contribute with. Not since Draco had entered the picture.

Draco had found what Voldemort had intended no one to find. Not even Dumbledore had managed to figure out about this. Dumbledore hadn't been able to find any of the Horcruxes this fast, and he had known the man.

Draco Malfoy had done the impossible, and Harry had no idea what reason he had done it for.

He really needed to talk to Hermione. Draco had investigated everything else for him. Harry owed it to him to at least look into this.

He dropped to his knees in front of the fire and grabbed the urn of floo powder and tossed some of it into the flames. When it turned green he stuck his head in and said "The Burrow!"

When his head stopped spinning and the Weasleys' kitchen came into view he called out "Hermione!"

It was Mrs. Weasley that answered.

"Oh, Harry dear, how nice to see you!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, you too, Mrs. Weasley, do you think you could get Hermione for me?" he asked, not wanting to come across as rude, but desperate to talk to her.

"Of course, dear," she said with a little frown, as if wondering what he was up to, but stood and called out. "Hermione, Harry wants to talk to you!"

It didn't take long before he saw Hermione's feet come bouncing down the stairs.

"Harry!" she called out, and rushed to the fire. "How are-…"

"Not now, I need to ask you something." He interrupted quickly, seeing Mrs. Weasley getting back to the dough resting on the counter in the background.

"Okay…?" Hermione agreed reluctantly.

"How did you get Malfoy to agree to stay with me?" he asked quickly, praying that she wouldn't ask why he wanted to know that.

"Oh…" Hermione said, sounding surprised and a little awkward, "It really wasn't hard. I found him in the hallways and said that you needed his help, and he just asked what he could do."

"Oh…" was all Harry could say.

"Yes. But getting him to agree to take the unbreakable vow was harder. He said that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't hurt you one way or another, so I let him off."

"You let him off?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Malfoy never took the unbreakable vow." Hermione clarified.

"Hermione!" he burst, not believing that she could have been that careless, despite the fact that Draco obviously hadn't done anything to him anyway.

This was probably why McGonagall had been so surprised at seeing them together.

"Harry," she sighed, pulling a string of hair behind her ear, "I already knew he wouldn't hurt you."

"How could you know that!" he demanded.

"You haven't figured it out yet, have you?" Hermione said, sounding disappointed.

"Why does everyone tell me I need to figure something out!" he asked in annoyance.

"Because everyone else sees it. Even Ron figured it out on his own! Harry…" Hermione sighed again, "you remember the war, don't you?" she asked.

"How could I forget?" he replied grimly.

"True. Anyway, you remember close to the end, right before we found Voldemort?"

"Yes, a pack of werewolves had scared away pretty much everyone the area we came across, so we had to take another way, why?"

"No… Harry, _before _we left!"

"We killed some of them." He said, not understanding what she was getting at.

"_You _killed all but two of them, on your own, me and Ron had already left to help Luna and Neville."

"So I killed them. What has this to do what that you knew that Malfoy wouldn't hurt me?"

"You killed them to _save _Malfoy, Harry! The werewolves had figured out that Malfoy was a traitor by then and attacked him, _that's _why you killed them!" Hermione burst, now looking seriously displeased that he couldn't remember anything of this on his own. "You then practically carried him back to the castle so the healers could look at him. And if you hadn't, he wouldn't have survived! Merlin, Harry, it seems everyone but you remembers what a hero you were during the battle!"

"I don't _want _to remember!" He burst, his patience completely run out, desperate to find out what Hermione knew and he didn't. "I don't want to remember any of it! Now tell me why you think that Draco would never hurt me!"

Hermione's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "You wouldn't think that Malfoy would hurt you either if you had seen the way he looked at you when you walked away after you had helped him that day. If you had seen the way he looks at you all the time, really."

"Hermione, what are you getting at?" he asked verily.

"Harry," she said. "Draco Malfoy is in love with you."


	41. January 9th Saturday

**Chapter 40**

Harry stared at Hermione for a long time. Then he burst out laughing.

"Are you insane, Hermione! Draco _does not _love me!" he shook his head to underline his words.

"Of course he does, Harry, just think about it," Hermione said, "How much has he done for you? And you have done quite a lot for him in return; do you really think it's _that_ strange?""

"But Malfoy isn't really the type to swoon over someone just because that person saved his life," Harry protested, but doubt was already growing in his mind. Could Hermione be right?

"Of course he isn't; he's much too proud for that, I just think that's what tipped the scale. Maybe it wasn't even that; maybe I just didn't notice until then. I don't know when it started; I just know it's there. The rest is for you two to figure out. Where is Malfoy anyway?" Hermione asked.

Harry ignored her question. "And even Ron could see that Draco… presumably felt that about me?"

"_Yes, _Harry, and there's nothing to '_presume'_; it's obvious. But you haven't told me anything about what's happened to you. We haven't heard from you in weeks, and when I contacted McGonagall she said that she hadn't seen you in days. Where have you been, and why isn't Malfoy with you?"

Yes, why wasn't Draco with him right now?

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly when he didn't reply.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, thanks for the help, I've got to go now."

He barely heard Hermione's "Wait, Harry!" before his head was out of the fireplace.

Goosebumps were rising all over his skin from a feeling he himself couldn't identify. Could Hermione be right?

He remembered that time when they had come home to the manor after they had gotten the portkey at the ministry; Harry had gotten Draco to say that he liked him. In his mind, he had translated it to that Draco now at least accepted his presence as something inevitable and tolerated it. When Draco had said that he was doing all this because he liked him, Harry hadn't really thought too much about it. But he probably should have, he realized now. Because 'tolerating one's presence' didn't mean that you were prepared to risk your life for that person. There must be something more…

No.

What in Merlin's name was he thinking? Of course Draco Malfoy did not love Harry Potter. It sounded silly even in Harry's own head.

Just because Harry had realized that he was in love with the Slytherin didn't mean that he loved him back. Not at all. But it _did_ mean that Harry's hope would fuel suspicions about Draco's presumed feeling for him.

_There's nothing to presume, Harry; it's obvious… _

No, there wasn't anything to presume. It was very obvious and self-explanatory that Draco was not in love with Harry.

Why on earth should he be?

Harry couldn't think of a single reason. Nor could he find a single sign that could support Hermione's (and apparently Ron's) theory. He and Draco had slept in the same bed for almost a month, and not once had Draco made any advances. Every night, he had just rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and gone to sleep. If he had wanted to move closer, he even had a perfect excuse to do so. Heck, he even slept in full night-clothing most of the time!

The night when Harry had told Draco about his nightmares being the exception to both above. But that had been different! And Draco had had very valid reasons to do that!

No… No, Harry had better give this up before he started. Hermione wasn't often wrong, but this was undoubtedly one of the times when she was. That Ron also was behind her in this matter… actually, as Harry thought about it; it only further proved that Hermione was wrong. Ron was wrong so often that it easily made up for the times Hermione was right; especially when it came to feelings.

Come to think of it Harry was really bad at the subject of feelings too. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe he wasn't in love with Draco after all? That was a possibility. Because, really, how could one know these things for certain?

Involuntarily, Harry came to think of the time they had realized that silver was the solution, and how Malfoy had been about to kiss him. At least Harry had thought that he was.

What if Draco had kissed him right there and then? Harry's face flushed and burned at the mere thought and Goosebumps spread over his skin. It all felt like he quite literally melted into a puddle right there on the couch.

Ron, then, he forced himself to think, what if it had been Ron that kissed him back then? Would he feel the same? He imagined Ron's thinner, redder lips and exchanged Draco's pink ones for them, Draco's silver eyes for Ron's blue.

His own eyes, which he hadn't even noticed had slipped shut, opened instantly; maybe even a bit wide with horror. No, definitely not the same. Ron was… his best friend, without any question and doubt.

Draco… Images flooded Harry's mind. Draco in his dressing gown during the banquet; an attire Harry didn't even know he had memorized. Draco in his little-too-tight pants, out-grown favorites, though the blonde would never admit it. Draco in that damned suit, combed hair, gleaming eyes and grinning lips. Draco stark naked as he pressed Harry down to the floor in the bathroom.

Harry was, he concluded as he pressed his hand against his groin, trying vainly to force his erection away, most definitely and very much in love with Draco. And, of course, that Draco was not in love with _him_.

But, he had never been one for giving up.

And so, Harry Potter decided that he would fall _out of love_ with Draco Malfoy. And most importantly; that Draco Malfoy would never feel more than possibly occasional acceptance towards him.

* * *

Ah... again, errors are mine. I found myself quite bored, so I decided to post this before Winterstorrm sent me the right version of it. Sneaky sneaky, indeed.

And... _if_ I write the last chapter through tonight (or tomorrow; I'm not that picky), I'm going to post the next chapter tomorrow, and the last one the day after. And then... we are through. Yes, I think you and me have begun to grow apart. Now, don't look at me like that; I think we need to go our own ways and-... No, kidding aside, at chapter 42 this fic ends. Yes _**ENDS. **_It is of course possible that I split the last chapter in two (since it's already up in 2500 words, and I've barely writtten anything - yes, three 't's was necessary), buuut... I don't think so. Anyhow, you get my drift.  
If I don't complete the chapter... then... you'll get the next chapter tomorrow and the last one some time after that! XD

Once again, my errors for now. You can wait for a later, error-free version if you want! But that's probably a little late to tell you here, isn't it? XD

Anyhow, see you tomorrow then, possibly! ;)


	42. January 11th

**Chapter 41**

Falling out of love with Draco Malfoy was Harry's new mission, his quest. Trouble was that he really didn't know how one went about when falling out of love with someone.

His first priority though, was keeping Ron and Hermione out of it. He felt that was better for all three of them. Especially since he wasn't going to like Draco for much longer. And since they seemed to think that Draco liked him, despite it all. It was simply in order to avoid conflict.

They had returned the day before and he had met them outside the castle. Hermione had been slightly furious that he had just "hung up on her" like that, as she put it, but had settled a little when he promised to tell everything about how Draco had solved the whole mystery. To be completely honest, he had forgotten to tell them that he was fine and Voldemort-free, something he felt horrible about and apologized for, heartfelt and honest. But Ron and Hermione had simply exchanged a gaze and said that they understood. Harry guessed that that was good, because he certainly did not.

School was once again upon them though, and would hopefully be a distraction good enough for Harry to stop thinking about Draco. Because he certainly hadn't been able to yet.

Ron, Hermione and he had went down for breakfast as usual this morning, and along with half the castle, Draco was there. And Harry hadn't been able to take his eyes of him.

All he did, _all the time,_ was think about the damned Slytherin, and when he did his whole body felt strange. Something behind his eyes burned like he was about to cry, his stomach was a twisted mess of knots and his head was constantly spinning. And he blushed. All the time and without reason. He hadn't been one to blush before, but now… it seemed like a few liters of blood were saved away for the sole purpose of rushing to his cheeks at the slightest inkling.

And his concentration was gone and away; everything in his mind was Draco's hair, Draco's hands, Draco's voice when he spoke, Draco's lips as he spoke. "Harry, mate," Ron had said as Harry was turning in his transfiguration assignment, "sorry to point it out, but your name isn't spelled that way…"

And oh, how Harry wanted to kiss those lips. He could entertain himself for hours just thinking about it; how Draco would feel, how he would taste…

Whoever claimed that being in love was a pleasant experience was bloody wrong. There wasn't a chance in the world for Harry to concentrate on _anything. _Not books, not the teachers, not classes, and definitely not the breakfast standing in front of him.

"Harry, I know you like the guy, but seriously, do you think you could pay attention when I'm speaking to you?" Ron said and waved his hand in front of Harry's eyes.

"Ron!" Hermione burst in a scolding tone and glared at the redhead. "I told you that we should give him time to figure it out on his own!"

Harry was looking in confusion between his two friends. "Wait… what are you talking about…?"

Hermione sent Ron another glare, but Ron was oblivious.

"That you're head over heels for Malfoy," Ron said and waved his fork in the general direction of the Slytherin table. "And seriously, mate, I have no problem with it, I just want you to focus at something else. A little. Sometimes."

Harry was at loss of words. "You… you know?" he managed to get out.

"_You _know?" Hermione asked in surprise.

Harry was even more confused. "Of course I do… Shouldn't I…?"

Hermione sighed, but smiled. "Oh Harry, of course you should, I just thought you hadn't figured it out yet. You always were so oblivious concerning these things!" she giggled a bit, "So when did you tell him? Surely it was after you called me?"

Nothing in Harry's world seemed to make sense anymore. "Told who what?"

Hermione's smile faltered a bit. "You haven't told Draco that you like him?" she asked in a low voice, making sure no one but Harry and Ron could hear her.

"No!" Harry burst in horrification dragging startled gazes from people nearby. "No!" He repeated, quieter this time.

"And why not, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Because" Harry hissed, "I don't-…! I… I can't just tell him that, Hermione…"

"Yes you can," Hermione stated. "And you will, because it's the right thing to do, and because he likes you."

"How can you be so sure!" Harry asked, but couldn't quite manage to kill the hope in the pit of his stomach.

"Because, Harry," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh, "it's obvious. He might be good at hiding emotions otherwise, but this is obvious to a blind man! To Ron, even!"

"Hey!" Ron protested.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Hermione said with a shrug "Just… look Harry, in about five seconds, Draco is going to look over here again." She held up five fingers as she spoke, but folded one down for each second that passed. At the last one she simply pointed over to the Slytherin table. Harry couldn't help but look. And as he did, he saw Draco's face rise and the grey eyes seek him out without trouble. Their gazes locked for a second, and then Malfoy suddenly stood and walked away from the table. His confused friends called after him as he left, and when he didn't reply, they followed him.

"He left," Harry stated dumbly.

"Of course he did, Harry," Hermione said as if it was a natural course of action. "I can't believe that you can't see this Harry." Hermione sounded truly disappointed.

"But… it's impossible…?" Harry said, but even to him, it sounded more like a question more than a statement.

"Harry, did Draco ever seem nonchalant about your situation, or did he do everything in order to keep you safe?"

"He was never _nonchalant, _but Hermione, when you put it like that-…"

"_And," _Hermione interrupted, "did he need to do that? No; you know that he didn't even have a vow to keep him to that. One can't even claim that he was morally obliged to do _anything, _with all the trouble and danger it put him in."

Harry's stomach wrenched in guilt at Hermione's words, but knew they were completely true. "I know."

"Did he ever tell you that he would be sad if you died, or show it in any way?"

Yes he had. Harry very well remembered when they had returned from Washington. _I can't stand having you die on me, _Harry thought his exact words had been. And when he had woken up in the head-master's office in Draco's arms, feeling his tears dampening Harry's skin.

Hermione must have seen the reply on his face.

"And tell me something; did he ever try to tell you something but changed his mind in the last second?"

Harry blushed. "Yes."

"He was trying to tell you that he likes you," Hermione stated, matter-of-factly.

Harry stared at her. And she stared right back.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry's mind dragged up the memory. Like one of those computers Dudley had, Harry's mind seemed to save everything remotely concerning Draco in greatest detail possible.

He stood so suddenly that he almost fell right over again, scrambling away from the dining-table.

"I'll see you later," he mumbled as he headed for the exit.

"Where's he going?" he heard Ron ask.

"You don't want to know, Ron," Hermione replied from somewhere behind him. Maybe he should have been embarrassed or even protested, but as for the moment he didn't care.

The memory of the end of that train ride was clear in his mind. Though he hadn't been well enough to see it at the time, the lip-reading in hindsight wasn't hard.

And so, as Harry mentally removed the deafening sound of the screeching breaks, the memory of Draco told him something Harry had thought he hadn't wanted to hear. But oh so wrong he had been.

_I'm in love with you._

* * *

Dear and beloved audience... I can see the end.


	43. Authors Note

Ok, first off, don't kill me. This is not a chapter. Not beta-ed, either for that matter.

BUT THERE WILL BE ANOTHER CHAPTER. SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE. I need to be a wicked sadistic maniac to end things as that chapter ended! It says INCOMPLETE, does it not! Oh my, I never should have written that last thing in last chapter. But on the other hand, I do remember writing next THREE chapters on the one before that. NOOO Now I see why you are so confused! I am quoting myself now "No, kidding aside, at chapter 42 this fic ends. Yes _**ENDS.**_"  
This is another thing I've been meaning to bring up. I do not name two chapters the same thing. But my chapter-count is off because at chapter "January 6th, Night" I added a chapter that wasn't supposed to be in this story from the start. Chapter 33.5. So, if you read the fat, underlined text at the top of what fanfiction says is chapter 42 it says **41**. This (to be totally clear; what you're currently reading) chapter will be deleted and replaced by chapter **42** hopefully some time this weekend.

So, I am not a cruel, mean and sadistic person. I am simply screwing with the chapter count.

And,** RG ().**.. I do hope you read this. It would be much easier to reply to you if you included your mail somewhere or signed in. But I have brought a sword and shield to defend myself here. Hopefully I'm not dead yet. I am terribly sorry that I scared you. But there WILL be another chapter. It says M, now, doesn't it? ;) And M in my world is sex. *spoilers if you have an IQ over 2, people!*  
So I hope that I'll hear from you concerning the real end. Sorry that I kept you up for 4 hours. ;)


	44. January 11th, The End

**Chapter 42**

Hello, I just wanted a last little chat before we wrap this up. You see, this is the first _real _chapter-fic I've ever written in English, so I didn't know what to expect when I started writing this. I started it… about a year ago, I think. But I didn't really get into it until about three months after that. And I was also worried over the fact that most stories were just about how they were together already, and what complications they met as a couple. But this… well, you are reading this now, so you know that isn't the case with this story. I don't know… I was just so… tired of it, I guess. I even stopped reading most stories when they got together; sometimes I even turned away when they were in the middle of having sex! So I knew I was going to end this when they got together; I just didn't know how it was going to be received.

I knew my grammar wasn't really awesome, so when I closed in on 30 000 words I began searching for a beta. (And I'll be damned if I ever could have found a better one.) On February the 14th I published the first chapter. 2 reviews. 40 views. I was horrified. You can talk about doing it for yourself and that you should not care about what other people think, but that doesn't work on me. Sure, Merlin knows that I am a heck of a lot better at pretty much everything concerning English (which isn't my native language, once again) after this little adventure of mine – this story, that is. But that isn't why I write. I write because I know the feeling of reading something so good, that when your attention is drawn away from it, it's like resurfacing, but you can't help but wanting to dive back in again. So good, that for those 20 or 30 minutes you read it, nothing else matters. And when they have passed, you want nothing more than the next part. I know that _feeling…_

I'm not naïve, though. I know how few stories and authors that have touched me in that way. But I thought I had a chance to reach _someone. _I had to believe that; like I said, it's my reason to write. But 40 views on the first chapter… in my mind, that's just passing someone's time. I almost gave up right there, but I couldn't; I had written so much already.

I read my summary, and realized I wouldn't want to read it either. I changed it, and by the next day 200 more people had clicked on it.

Now, most of my chapters have over 2000 views; some over or closing in on 3000. Like I said, this is my first story, so I can't tell you if that's much or little in the context, but I'm pleased. And you can see my review-count for yourself.

I do not know if I have truly given any of you the feeling that I talked about above, but – unless you all are a bunch of liars – from what I have read in your comments, I have succeeded in entertaining you, in making you look forward to my updates.

Oh the reviews… especially one signed **drarrylover ()** that I received for chapter 31, I believe, got to me. And then there's a ton from **crowngirl2 **and** AlineDaryen **and **Ayjayssis**. And _a lot _of other people that I'm sure I'd like to mention, but unfortunately I'm a complete and utter _bollocks _when it comes to names, and that's just the way it is.

But there's nothing like a long review, right? ;)

But oh, how I'm babbling. I just wanted to thank you for… everything, I guess. I couldn't have wished for a greater success; a better audience.

And so, for the last time; until the next story everyone. For now, I'll just let you read. Here it is, for real;  
**The End**.

* * *

Harry had ran past the Gryffindor tower to pick up his invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map and located Draco – to no one's surprise – in the Slytherin Dungeons. Harry wasted no time.

Now, as Harry looked around in the dorm, he wondered if maybe he should have stopped to think for a moment. _Everyone _was in there; Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott and Draco. Thank Merlin that Draco was still there, otherwise he didn't know what he would have done. Not that he really knew that now either, but it made things a bit easier. Now all he needed to do was to get everyone out of there. A task that really should have been easy; classes were starting any minute now, so they had to leave soon. The problem with that plan, though, was that with them, Draco would leave and there was not a big chance to get his attention without the others noticing.

So, deciding that the others would probably discover him anyway, he stepped out to the middle of the room and pulled the cloak off his head and shoulders and said "Excuse me."

The five people in the room jumped, and Zabini even gave a little shout, but Harry ignored them. "Excuse me," he said again, "but do you think you could leave Draco and me alone for a few minutes?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked like they would prefer to beat him up, whilst Nott and Zabini looked at Draco for confirmation.

Harry stood his ground, and tried to look determined, but not like he was picking a fight. It was entirely possible that he just ended up a looking a bit constipated, but at least no one had tried to hex him yet.

Finally Malfoy nodded slightly for the others to leave. Harry did his best not to show how relieved he was by that.

"Whatever, Potter," Nott said. "Classes start now anyway, I'll make sure professor Snape notices you are absent."

"I doubt he would miss it," Harry replied stiffly, but managed what he hoped was an at least a polite nod as the four Slytherins left the room. His eyes followed them out, and he let out a heavy breath as the door shut.

This had gone surprisingly easy; all his body parts were still in place and so were theirs. They hadn't even asked how he got into their common room.

_"What in the name of Merlin are you doing here, Potter!" _Draco suddenly bellowed, causing Harry to jump.

"I'm-…" Harry got out, but didn't get any further.

"I thought we were bloody finished!"

Harry noticed a slight shimmer over the walls as Malfoy flicked his wand and realized he had cast a silencing charm over the room. Shit, Harry thought, that probably meant he was planning to shout some more.

For a moment it seemed like Malfoy's wand pointed at him, but then he stuffed it into his pocket with a touch of regret on his face.

"You're a bloody ignorant bastard, do you know that, Potter!"

"I-…" Malfoy didn't wait for him to reply.

"The most selfish, blind, _moronic_ _prick _that ever walked the halls of Hogwarts!"

Maybe not as smoothly as he had thought…

"And you still have the fucking guts to come here! You should be locked in to that stupid tower of yours and-…"

"Can I just say something!" Harry interrupted.

He shouldn't have. Malfoy's wand was out in a second again, this time undoubtedly pointing straight at him.

"No! You will listen; I'm not done insulting you!"

Harry had little choice but to shut up as Malfoy walked up to him and pointed the wand at his chest.

"After all this time… _everyone _saw. Everyone but you. Heck, I even tried to tell you once! Do you know what you have done to me? Do you know what you are doing to me by being here! And in front of the others! I-…"

Harry kissed him. He stretched his arms out, curled his hands around Draco's neck, pulled him close and kissed him.

Draco froze up like a statue, albeit a statue with very soft lips. Harry kissed harder; craving a response despite the fact that Draco's wand was sticking harshly into his ribs. And when he gently followed the curve of Draco's lower lip with his tongue, he got his response. Though not even close to the one he had sought.

Draco's wand drilled even harder into his chest, and an unusually harsh stinging hex caused him to jump back with a surprised yelp. The pain almost made it hard to breath for a moment.

He put a hand over his ribs and looked up at Draco in hurt confusion.

Malfoy's arm was outstretched and his wand was pointing at him, much like the position Draco had stood in back in Washington. Though that had been Harry's wand, and Draco's arm had been steady, not shaking like it was now. And Malfoy probably realized as much, as he withdrew his hand and stuffed his wand back again in his pocket.

Draco turned away and put an unsteady hand over his eyes, shaking his head. "Why did you come?" Draco demanded.

Harry took a deep breath. This was it. This was everything.

"Because… because I think you might be in love with me…"

Malfoy spun back around quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. Horror rose in Draco's face as he realized that Harry was being serious.

"Potter, if you ever tell anyone, I swear, I'll-…" Draco threatened hoarsely, but Harry didn't let him finish, being so involved in his confession that the threat was spoken to deaf ears.

"And I think that I'm in love with you too…" Draco's words died on his lips as his mouth was left hanging open in disbelief. "Over the past month… I really never quite knew you before, but over this past month I have gotten to. And I realized that I didn't want to let you go. We have spent all this time together and all I can think about is just how I want more of it. More of you." Harry took a deep breath; he had never been very good with words. "I'm able to live without you now, something I literally couldn't before. But I realized that I didn't want to. I don't want to live without you."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief, and Harry looked back in anxiety. He had tried _not _speaking his mind before, and that had ended with horror, quite obviously. This time, he had said exactly how he felt, and if this didn't work, Harry wasn't sure what he could do.

"I… _why?" _Draco asked in bewilderment.

"You have always fought against me before… I guess I rather liked it when you fought for me…" Harry admitted with a shrug and a blush. "I… I know we've really only known each other for this past month; like I said. But I guess… I guess one month was all it took… all it took for me to fall in love with you."

His words hung in the air, making it so thick that you could almost touch it. Draco's wide grey eyes were staring at him, wide with disbelief.

"Merlin, Potter, are you serious?" Draco breathed.

Harry only nodded. He was beginning to worry; Draco had yet to say anything that directly confirmed Harry's assumptions.

"I-…" Draco seemed to be at loss of words.

Collecting what was left of his Gryffindor courage he walked up to Draco and gripped his wand with his hand. Draco gripped it harder for a moment, but then let go and let Harry take it out of his hand. Harry let the wood drop to the floor.

He put his hand on the small of Draco's back and spread his fingers in a slight caress before pulling him closer. There was a mere slice of air that still separated them, but Harry made sure it was still there, should all of this be a terrible mistake.

"Do you like me, Draco?" he asked softly, their faces so close that Harry's nose brushed Draco's cheek for a moment.

"Like you?" Draco laughed a little, like the thought was preposterous. "Of course I don't!"

The words were like a punch in his stomach, and the ache exploding in his chest far surpassed the pain of Draco's stinging hex.

"Oh…" Harry got out, despite the fact that his throat felt like he had swallowed a stone, and pulled away. But Draco's eyes caught his as he withdrew, and there was something in them that made him stop.

"I bloody love you, Potter," Draco said, his eyes sincere and serious, but still filled with an inexplicable joy that made Harry's heart pound in his chest.

Draco put both his hands on Harry's waist and pulled him close, crashing their lips together.

The kiss… oh the kiss. It was far better than anything Harry ever could have imagined. Draco's warm, wet, _perfect _mouth pressed hard against his. There was nothing slow or shy about the way Draco kissed; his tongue met Harry's in a matter of seconds, causing Harry's knees to almost give in by the sheer taste of the blond. His hands fisted the fabric of Draco's shirt at the end of his spine, probably crumpling it beyond repair. But he didn't care. And apparently, neither did Draco, who pressed himself closer and kissed him harder.

Suddenly Draco pushed him back against the wall so harshly that the air went out of Harry, but Draco's lips were back on his in a matter of seconds, and all was forgotten and forgiven. But Draco's hands didn't stay on his waist; they moved lower and then up again, under his shirt. As they brushed past his nipples Harry gasped loudly, the sound poorly muffled by Draco's amazing lips. He felt them quirk in a smile, and bit Draco's lower lip in response. It had been meant as a punishment, but the growl that came out of Draco sounded like pure pleasure.

Draco suddenly tore his lips away from Harry's and pulled impatiently at Harry's shirt.

"Off," Malfoy demanded. "Off, I need to see you."

Harry complied by lifting his arms over his head, and Draco rid him of the fabric quickly.

Gently, Draco lifted his hand and picked up the small glass-vial that hung from the long silver chain from Harry's chest. "You still wear it." He said.

"Yeah…" Harry replied absentmindedly, captivated by Draco's face.

The way Draco stared at him made Harry hot all over, and Draco's hand on his skin did nothing to diminish that feeling, not even when they suddenly turned him around.

Draco's lips fastened on his neck, sucking licking and biting, probably leaving marks that Harry wouldn't mind even should they come with signs highlighting them.

"God, Potter, you and your bloody body. I thought I was going to have a seizure the first time I saw you, sitting there without your shirt on that couch…"

Harry could barely get out a reply, pressings his damp palms to the wall, whishing it could provide something for him to hold on to. "Is th-that a compliment?" he finally managed.

"Yes, Potter, it's a compliment," Draco confirmed. "It's also a threat to my sanity. I thought I was going to go completely barking mad from having you so close and yet never be allowed to touch you…"

Somehow Harry got his hands behind his head and placed it on Draco's cheek the best he could.

"You can touch me all you want," he promised breathily, not caring that it sounded completely ridiculous.

The sound that Draco emitted in response made Harry feel lightheaded and long for Draco's lips on his own again. But he was held firmly in place by the elegant hands on his shoulders.

Draco took a step closer, pressing his slender body against Harry's. Draco's hands slid down to Harry's arse and grabbed his hips, his fingertips dangerously close to his groin as he pulled him back against him, making sure that Harry felt every inch of his hard-on. "Be careful with what you promise," Draco breathed.

A moan slipped easily past Harry's parted lips as he managed a whimpered "Oh God…" Harry's mind flooded with all kinds of images of what _not _being careful might lead to.

"I want it, Draco," he replied breathlessly, "I want _you._"

A second too late he realized that such a thing might be even more embarrassing to say. And surely, Harry would have died of shame, if Draco hadn't spun him around and slammed his lips against his, making Harry unable to think of anything but of their blissful movement. Until he suddenly felt fingers working on his zipper.

He stiffened a little… in more than one way. Draco felt it.

"Would you prefer if I stopped?" he whispered and leaned close.

"You sure we should go this fast?" Harry whispered back in Draco's ear, but kissed his neck nevertheless.

"Honestly, Harry, if we were moving any slower, we'd be going backwards by now."

Harry chuckled, but the reply woke a new question in his mind. One he couldn't possibly keep himself from asking. "For how long?"

"For how long what?" Draco replied, his hands still by Harry's groin.

"How long have you… been in love with me…?" Harry asked, feeling a blush heating his cheeks at his words.

"In love with you?" Draco said the words as if he enjoyed the feeling of them leaving his lips. "Three weeks, probably, give or take. Liked you? Harbored a ridiculously abundant crush on you? Merlin knows. I realized I was checking out your arse for the first time a year and a half ago, I think…"

"My arse?" Harry asked in amusement.

"Your arse," Malfoy confirmed. "Do you have any objections to that?" Draco asked and squeezed his erection through his pants.

Harry's eyes slipped shut instantly, and in his surprise he could do nothing to stop the loud moan that passed his lips. His face heated hopelessly and his head spun maddeningly. Draco, probably not exactly discouraged by his reaction, did it again, a little harder this time. Harry's hands searched the wall desperately for something to cling on to, but, of course, he found nothing. Draco's shoulders were where they finally landed, gripping hard for support. He'd like to pull Draco close, to kiss him, or even return the favor, but all he managed to do was stand there, breath, and hope that he wouldn't fall over as Draco's hand moved over him.

"Do you think that maybe a bed would be a good idea?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"I don't know, I rather fancied the idea of doing you against the wall, but you're probably right."

Harry should not have found that erotic. He should _not _have. But he did, oh so very much. But before Harry got the chance to point that out, Draco had pushed him down against a bed and placed himself on top of him.

"But surely we'll have time to do that too, sometime, no?"

Harry simply pulled him down and kissed him. He pried Draco's lips open easily and met his eager tongue with his own. This was his kiss; Harry was in control of this one. And he made sure to make good use of that.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco mumbled as they parted, looking a bit dazed, "I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you."

Harry smiled. "Good."

For a moment Draco only stared at him, a blush slowly creeping over his cheeks. Then suddenly Draco buried his face against Harry's shoulder with a groan. "You're going to be the death of me some day, Harry."

"Let's not hope too soon," Harry replied and took the moment to touch Draco's hair. It was like silk, twisting easily between his fingers.

"You're an absolute agony to live with, do you know that, Potter?" Draco mumbled. "You continuously _refused _to wear clothes like a normal human being."

"It wasn't very _continuously_,and you were angry the first time too," Harry teased.

"I wasn't _angry," _Draco protested and lifted his head, "I was simply… frustrated. How would you feel if I waltzed around half naked all the time and you never got to touch me?"

A flood of blood surged south at the mere thought of Draco in any state of undress. Judging by the wicked grin on the Slytherin's lips, he felt Harry's reaction.

"Oh… definitely frustrated…" Harry mumbled, feeling very sorry for Draco if what he had felt was even remotely close to what Harry was picturing. "Talking about clothes, though… you're wearing a surprising amount of them… "

"I'd think that most people would find the amount _you're_ wearing more surprising than mine, but I see what you're saying…" Draco grinned.

Harry blushed.

Still smiling, Draco sat up, thighs on either side of Harry's hips, and began unbuttoning his shirt. But, shockingly enough, it wasn't Draco's slowly uncovered skin that caught Harry's attention.

"You're still wearing the ring…" Harry got out, strangely choked up.

The smile disappeared from Draco's lips, and he covered up his left hand with his right, as if he somehow would be able to undo Harry seeing it.

"Yes," Draco replied almost defiantly, but said nothing else.

"It means… a lot to me, that you do," Harry managed, and gently moved Draco's hand away so that he could see the ring on Draco's pale finger. "Do you… like it?"

"It reminds me of you," Draco said with a small smile, apparently encouraged by Harry's reaction.

"It does?" he asked in surprise.

"Potter, it's red and had a lightning bolt-shape in it that's identical to your scar."

"Point taken," Harry admitted, still unable to take his eyes of the ruby.

"I believe I was undressing…?" Draco reminded him.

Harry's eyes instantly snapped to Draco's. "Yes. Do continue with that, please," Harry encouraged, but then changed his mind and sat up. "Never mind that, actually, let me do it instead."

Harry didn't wait for Draco to reply and quickly slid the buttons out of their slits, and pulled the white fabric back over Draco's shoulders.

Sure, of course he had seen Draco without a shirt many times. Actually he had seen him completely undressed, too. Seen. Never _looked. _And as it turned out, the difference was huge. His fingers lightly traveled over the faint shadows that marked Draco's ribs as he marveled at the sight of his slim torso. Harry felt very silly just for thinking it, but Draco looked like some sort of Greek marble statue; like someone had put effort and though behind every smooth line. And Harry couldn't stop touching him. His hands traveled up Draco's arms feeling the muscles under the skin, over the pointed shoulders and prominent collar bones. Carefully, Harry placed a kiss on Draco's neck, just by where the jawbone turned upwards. His hands slid down and he sucked lightly on the skin in between his lips as he felt Draco's hips in his palms.

"Merlin, Potter…" Draco breathed in his ear, "why didn't we do this ages ago?"

Harry released the now somewhat red piece of skin from in between his lips. "Because I'm an idiot."

Draco chuckled. "Yeah, that's true."

"Why were you so angry when I came here, Draco?" Harry asked, careful to not stir up the irritation again, but still desperate to know.

Draco looked away and hesitated a little, but finally answered. "It seems rather ridiculous now, I guess, but I thought you were… oblivious to… how I felt. I figured it was because you either were incurably straight or you found the thought so alien that you couldn't even picture it… both of course were devastating to my hopes. That, or…" Malfoy fell silent.

"Or what?" Harry asked.

"I do feel ridiculous, Potter; I don't talk about these things," Malfoy grumbled.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "I know you don't. I feel immensely flattered."

To his delight, Draco chuckled again and shook his head. "I was… scared, too, I guess. I thought that you had figured it out, and that you had come to tell me off."

"Even after I kissed you?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Well…" Draco said with a shrug, but didn't finish the sentence; instead his tongue slipped out momentarily and wet his lips, as if he remembered the touch.

Feeling guilty for having made Draco feel bad, Harry leaned forward and gently pulled Draco forward with a hand on his cheek, and touched his lips to his in a chaste kiss. As Harry softly nibbled on his lips, Draco's hands snuck around Harry's waist, from his back until they rested on his chest in what must've been quite an awkward angle. And suddenly Harry found himself pressed against the mattress, pinned down by both Draco's arms and his slim figure straddling Harry's groin. The predatory grin that lay over Draco's red-kissed lips as their eyes met made something in his stomach flutter with anticipation, rather than worry him. And that proved to be very much the accurate reaction as Draco's hands and mouth descended on him.

He started high, by burying his fingers in Harry's already messed up hair and pressing his lips to Harry's forehead; possibly his scar. Then Draco's mouth wandered lower, touching lightly against Harry's lips and dragging his tongue along the edge of his bottom lip before leaving and taking Harry's earlobe into his mouth. Harry let out a heavy breath and pressed the tips of his fingers into the small of Draco's back at the sensation. But Draco soon left his ear too, and moved down to his neck, starting on new bruises to match the old ones that probably had already formed there from before. Harry would probably look as if he was wearing a blue scarf when Draco was done with him, but when Draco did _that _with his teeth and tongue, Harry couldn't possibly care less.

Draco's hands slid from his hair, stopped momentarily by his face and stroked his cheeks, before Draco put his hands against the sheets and lifted himself up a bit to meet Harry's eyes. Harry wanted to turn away, or even hide under the sheets. He could feel his face heat – he was probably red enough to put a tomato to shame – and his breaths was heavy, almost panting. While Draco, on the other hand, looked breathtaking (if Harry had had any breath left to steal that was). His perfect hair was just a bit tousled from when Harry had dragged his fingers through it, his lips plump from kissing, and some sort of glittering in the darkened eyes that Harry couldn't place. That he was half-naked didn't hurt.

Whatever reason Draco had stopped for, he was apparently content after just a few moments more, and leaned down to lay his lips on Harry again. This time there was no dwelling of any sort; he just put his mouth on Harry's right nipple and _sucked. _Harry gasped loudly and arched his back involuntarily, but the gasp turned into a moan as Draco gently closed his teeth on the nub. And he just continued. Harry didn't have a bloody clue of what he was doing, but _dear mother of Merlin, _he didn't want him to stop. A desire he might actually have mouthed one or two times. His hands were fisted hard around the sheets and kept there for worry of that he might actually hurt Malfoy if he replaced the crumpled fabric with him.

Harry's sagged breath was of both relief and disappointment as Draco moved away. _Not away; lower, _Harry realized. His trousers were now fully open, how and when that had happened, Harry did not know. Draco moved wordlessly lower in order to pull Harry's trousers of properly. Once they were off, Draco threw them over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, still not taking his eyes of Harry's. There was something so asking in his eyes that Harry nodded, despite not having a clue of what he had agreed to. But he couldn't think of any protests as Draco bent over him yet again and started pressing kisses against his abdomen. First in the area of his navel, even dipping into the shallow hole with his tongue for a brief moment, causing Harry's breath to become even more ragged.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Draco's hands were shifting Harry's boxers downwards, following the trim of them with his lips. Harry hadn't even noticed at first, until Draco had pressed lips and tongue against bare, naked skin that he definitely shouldn't have had access to if his underwear had stayed where intended to be. But oh, how little Harry cared.

Draco kissed lower and lower; even trailing his lips along the inside of Harry's thigh, nudging them wider apart and Harry complying mindlessly.

"…Draco…" was all Harry managed to get out, breathed and harsh. He finally let go of the sheets and carefully threaded his fingers into Draco's hair, stroking his lobes gently with his thumbs. "Draco…"

And Draco's kissing suddenly stopped. And Harry suddenly realized that his underwear was gone, and had been for some time.

Draco sat up a bit and met Harry's eyes with half a smile. "Merlin, you're amazing," Harry mumbled dazedly, smiling weakly back up.

"Thank you," Draco simply replied.

And then his gaze lowered to Harry's groin. And didn't avert in any way. Harry felt the blush on his cheeks deepen. Maybe he should have been past feeling ashamed, but he really wasn't. Not when Draco looked at him with that intensity. Harry didn't need to look for himself to know that he was insanely hard, and strangely (unfortunately) Draco's stare did nothing to diminish it.

Carefully, almost shyly, Draco began changing position; sat more on his knees than calves, slid his hands from Harry's thighs to his hips and leaned forwards. "What are you doing?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Finally, Draco looked up. "I'm sucking your cock." And then he was.

First, he simply opened up and let the tip of Harry's head in, hollowing his lips just a little to create suction. But it was more than enough to get Harry moaning and throwing his head back almost violently against the pillow.

Then he pulled back, and for a horrifying moment, Harry thought that Draco might have changed his mind. Harry actually raised his head, prepared to plead, to beg, anything, in order to get Draco to continue.

"Please-…" he started, but didn't get any further. He _saw_ Draco's hand shift from his hip in order to grip at the base of his erection, he _saw _Draco's tongue moving past his lips, but he was still completely unprepared for what happened. Beginning at the base, Draco licked a long stripe all the way to the tip of Harry's cock; even gathering some pre-come that had leaked at the tip, and then he swallowed him whole. What left Harry's mouth was half a scream as he once again threw his head back and shut his eyes tight. He wished that he could have stayed exactly as he was; watching Draco, but it was simply impossible; it was _too much. _

Once in as far as Draco could take it, Draco began to move up, never letting go before he went down again. He quickly picked up the pace, leaving Harry almost sobbing in pleasure. Harry tried to buck his hips, mindlessly seeking more friction, but he was held down firmly by Malfoy, who never slowed his pace despite this.

Harry couldn't possibly understand how Draco could find it pleasurable, and somewhere he felt bad for him, but he couldn't bring himself to say that Draco didn't need to do this. Suddenly Draco took Harry in the deepest yet and hollowed his cheeks, completely enfolding him in the warm wetness of his mouth, and all Harry could possibly get out was a loud moan. Surprisingly he heard, and _felt, _one leaving Draco as well, sending glorious vibrations through Harry's length.

Harry curled his fingers so hard in Draco's soft hair that it was entirely possible that he hurt him. But Harry was beyond control. "God, Draco, _please…" _he half-sobbed, not even sure what he was begging for. "More…"

Draco, however, seemed to be able to decipher his words and reached for his wand.

Harry's eyes shot open and he drew in a sharp breath as something cold touched, and _filled, _his rear. But then Draco swallowed around him and all was forgiven. Scraping his teeth ever so slightly against the underside of Harry's erection he slid upwards until he popped out of his mouth. Then Draco sat up and leaned over him. Harry let go of his hair and let his hands fall to the sheets. "Are you sure, Harry?" he asked.

_Oh my God. _Was all Harry's mind managed to produce, but thankfully he found his head nodding anyway. "You?" he rasped out.

Draco chuckled. "Ever the concerned hero," he teased. But before Harry could manage a reply, he had shifted so that Harry's thighs lay slung over his, lifted from the mattress, and pushed a single finger inside of him.

Harry gasped and squirmed at the burning sensation, but before he could even think of forming any sort of protest, Draco covered his lips with his. Kissing him, Draco began to move his hand carefully. Welcoming the distraction of Draco's soft lips he opened his mouth and kissed back. Draco tasted faintly of something salty that must've been Harry. Maybe that should have been disgusting, but it really wasn't. Malfoy kissed him eagerly, roughly, until Harry saw stars and forgot about any uncomfortness that could have been. Before Harry quite knew what was happening, or how, he was pushing back against two of Draco's scissoring fingers.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "More… please, Draco…" he didn't care that he was begging, sounding like a fool, he just wanted Draco. All of him.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked.

"You've already asked that; I'm positive," Harry assured, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice. "And you're still bloody clothed."

Draco grinned and held up his wand. "Easily fixed,"

"Don't remove anything important," Harry teased, but in the next moment Draco had Vanished his clothes, and his cock pressed against Harry's rear.

Draco's hand moved quickly over his torso and down to his arse, spreading his cheeks. And then he pushed inside, past the ring of muscle.

Harry drew for breath franticly and shut his eyes tight. Merlin, but it hurt. Tears prickled in his eyes, like someone had landed a blow on his nose. Draco would probably see it as flattery, but he _huge _pulsating faintly inside of Harry.

"Maybe I'm a bit negative by the way…" Harry murmured weakly.

"I don't think it works that way…" Draco breathed.

Slowly Harry opened his eyes, something in Draco's voice having caught his interest. And he didn't regret it. Draco's head was tipped back, his lips parted and his now messed up hair falling over his forehead and into his closed eyes. His prominent Adam's apple pointed his throat deliciously and his arms that still held Harry's rear in a firm grip shook lightly.

"Does it feel… good…?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Draco laughed faintly, but didn't open his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me, Potter?"

"I'm pretty sure it's you who's fucking me," Harry stated with a smile, and pushed further down on Draco to underline his point. It still hurt, but not as much, and with the expression that drew over Draco's face and the moan that slipped past his lips it was worth it. Worth it and much more.

Carefully, Draco pulled out, and just as slow and carefully pushed back in. "Merlin, Potter, you haven't exactly done this before, have you?" Draco breathed.

"'Course not. Who would I have done it with?" Harry asked.

"Good…" Draco breathed with a small smile. "Good…"

Harry couldn't help the warm feeling that spread from his chest at the words. And, incredibly, he found himself relaxing just a little bit. But a little bit was enough, because when Draco pulled out and pushed in this time, the pleasure far surpassed the discomfort. He grabbed for the sheets as Draco did it again and let a small sound of pleasure past his lips. Draco must've heard it, because he picked up the pace, just a little, and moved his hands to Harry's hips to hold him in place.

As Harry relaxed and stretched the pain ebbed away completely, and Draco moved faster and faster. Finally, Harry lifted his legs and wrapped them around Draco's waist to give him better access. And that turned out to be a stroke of genius, because with the next inward stroke, Draco hit _something _that had Harry crying out and gripping Draco's arms so hard that it'd surely leave bruises.

"Again… again, please…" Harry begged.

And Draco complied, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, harder and faster each time, until Harry couldn't possibly think anymore, just feel. And then Draco reached down between Harry's legs and grabbed his cock, and started pumping it as he pounded in and out of him.

Harry could feel it coming, feel Draco move faster, feel his breathing picking up, feel his cock twitch, and practically feel his heart beating faster and faster, but he couldn't possibly have prepared.

"Harry…!" Draco cried as he came pumping into Harry frantically and filled him with warm wetness. And that was too much, and Harry came as well, impossibly hard, all over both Draco's hand and his own abdomen, crying out.

Draco rode it out and then collapsed over Harry chuckling in his ear.

"What?" Harry asked, but couldn't help but laugh a bit as well.

"You want to know something?"

Harry nodded and pressed a kiss against Draco's neck.

"I haven't done this before either." Draco confessed.

"Good," Harry replied, grinning against Draco's smooth skin.

*ϟ*ϟ*

"Draco, I have been wondering something…" Harry started as they walked.

"Yes?" Malfoy replied, looking at his watch, probably making sure they hadn't missed dinner.

"Why do you think your father decided not to kill me?"

Now it was Draco's turn to blush, but he didn't reply.

"He figured out that you liked me, didn't he?" Harry asked.

"I think so." Draco simply replied.

Draco's hand had been dangling right beside Harry's the whole way from the dungeons, and now they were not very far from the great hall. Just barely too far away to touch his.

Harry told himself that he was not a Gryffindor for nothing and grabbed it. Maybe a bit too hard, and in a really odd angle, but he'd still done it. Draco looked at him in surprise, but Harry looked to the floor and blushed.

"You're such a sap," Draco complained, but still shifted his hands so their fingers could entwine.

"And you don't really mind," Harry shot back, grinning.

They walked in silence a bit after that, Harry feeling almost giddy with Draco's hand in his.

Until Draco effectively killed his mood with, "You should probably let go now".

Harry didn't particularly feel like it. "Probably? Do you want me to?" he asked.

"I don't mind," Draco assured with a shrug. "But the great hall is coming up…" he said and nodded towards the great oak doors that stood open a few feet ahead.

Harry wasn't entirely sure he was following, but let go of Draco's hand anyway. "Yeah…?"

They had stopped right in the middle of the two doors, and were in plain view of pretty much the whole school that was having dinner currently.

It took a while for Draco to reply, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around what Harry was saying.

"Wait… we're going public?" Draco asked in surprise.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Aren't we?"

They stood, both a bit flabbergasted, and stared at each other for a moment, until Harry finally found his voice. "It's alright if you don't want people to know."

"You want people to know?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. He wasn't going to lie. "But it's okay if you don't."

"Are you bloody insane, Potter? I think half of England is in love with the handsome and powerful Golden Boy. I just happened to fancy Harry Potter as well." He could see the smile pulling at the corners of Draco's lips, and couldn't help but smile back. "I love you. The other might as well know I'm not going to share."

And so, Draco Malfoy placed his hands on the back of Harry Potter's head and pulled him in for a kiss, right there in front of the whole school.

Because really, what reason did they have for hiding each other?


End file.
